


Inseparable

by Serena90



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Carriers, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Incest, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Touching, Northern culture, Old customs, Possessive Behavior, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:09:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 36,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1700957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serena90/pseuds/Serena90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robb Stark and Jon Snow are inseparable. When they were children, people had thought they were twins for their similar appearance and closeness. Now, they are still close even if they no longer resemble one another, almost too close.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Robb

**Author's Note:**

> Differences from Cannon:
> 
> 1\. As children, Robb and Jon looked very alike.
> 
> 2\. Robb looks more Northern and Jon looks more Valyrian as they age: broader frame (as in cannon) and face features more Northern for Robb and slender frame (as in Cannon but more exaggerated) and mauve eyes for Jon.
> 
> 3\. Robb and Jon are inseparable and everybody knows it.

At first glance, the two boys looked like twins. Robb Stark, with his dark curly hair and pale skin showing his Northern blood. The only trait that wasn’t of House Stark was his Tully blue eyes and the red highlights of his hair. Jon Snow, with his black curls, his grey mauve eyes and creamy skin.

The two boys were inseparable. Robb Stark and Jon Snow played together in snow, ate together in the hall and slept together in the same bed. Come morning, the servants would always find the two cubs curled together tightly, their hands unconsciously clutching each other.

Lady Stark’s attempts to separate the two children had gone unheeded. Jon Snow was not brave enough to defy his father’s Lady wife, but his other half had no such qualms. The little heir would escape the Maester or his mother’s watchful eyes to play with the bastard. He would sneak into the bastard’s room to sleep together.

Robb Stark knew Jon Snow belonged to him and Jon Snow knew he belonged to Robb Stark. Even with his other siblings, neither had felt a connection so strong with any other. They always knew where the other was and what he was feeling.

When they were children, everything seemed so simple. It was when they started to grow into men when the problems started. As they grew, Robb started to become a man of the North: broad shouldered, tall and strong. Jon, however, was growing lithe and lean. His features were becoming more Valyrian, his cheekbones high and his pink lips a pleasant curve.

Nobody could deny that the brothers would become a striking pair. The heir would be so strong and handsome and the bastard already showed hints of the great beauty he would become.

Jon giggled and spun away trying to escape his brother’s tickling fingers. The heir of Winterfell only smirked, following him and subtly cornering him. There was a predatory light in his blue eyes. Finally, Snow’s legs found the edge of the bed and he fell into it with a squeal.

The twelve-year-old lordling followed him, pinning his smaller brother into the bed, his fingers pouring more laughs and giggles from his brother.

“Stop! Please, Robb!” begged playfully Jon.

The Stark feigned considering the notion as he watched his brother’s blushed and panting face. He loved being the only one who could make Jon leave his solemn and stoic face behind. He loved that he was the only one who was trusted enough for that.

“No!” he exclaimed as he continued to tickle his half-brother.

Robb looked at his half-brother, he looked lovely. He could feel a new heat spread through his body at the beautiful view. His brother grew lovelier and lovelier; he had already heard whispers from the servants about how his mother must have been a great beauty to produce such a beautiful son.

His smaller brother squirmed, trying to get away. A blush was tinting his high cheekbones as his mauve eyes looked upwards to Robb.

His blue Tully eyes dropped to the pink moist lips that were parted. Time seemed to stop. Instinctively, his arms clutched his brother, keeping him firmly in place as he lowered his head.

The first touch of their lips was… soft. Robb closed his eyes, letting his weight drop onto his brother. The soft touch of his brother’s lips only made him want _more_. He wanted nothing more than to devour his beautiful brother, to own him and keep him his forever.

His right hand moved to grab his brother’s silky curls, angling Jon’s face for better access. As he opened his brother’s soft lips to enter his delicious mouth, he distantly heard his brother’s quiet moan. The sound made his blood rush through his ears, encouraging, making the kiss even more passionate.

His body seemed to be undulating automatically against his younger half-brother. The warmth of his Jon against his groin was especially maddening. He had explored himself enough to know he was going to spill soon. The thought of spilling his seed on his brother, of marking him with his pleasure in such a base way, filled him with perverse pleasure.

He spread his legs, to find grounding for his knees so that his thrusts were stronger. His knees found the bed and he smirked as he crouched over his Jon domineeringly. He abandoned his delicious lips to fervently attack the beautiful unmarked pale neck.

“Robb”, whimpered his brother, in a haze of pleasure, “Robb, Robb”

His younger brother said his name like a prayer. His thrusts against his Jon’s slender frame grew more uncontrolled; he could feel his pleasure like a tight ball in his stomach. His skin was on fire and nothing incensed him more than the amazing sight of his gorgeous Jon, flushed with pleasure. He panted against the pale long neck.

He wanted more. He wanted to hear his delicious moans. He wanted to hear his name chanted. He wanted to bring him apart with pleasure and put it together. He wanted to mark all his pale skin. He wanted to possess Jon.

“Mine”, he muttered harshly against his Jon’s small ear, biting it teasingly afterwards.

“Yours”, whispered back his brother, “Yours always, Robb, always”

The words brought his climax. He had explored with himself before, but he had never known so much pleasure. He felt his mind go white for a few seconds. However, he still heard his brother’s moans and felt his warm frame underneath him.

He collapsed on his sibling. He closed his Tully eyes again and breathed in and out. Then, when he had regained enough of his mind, he sneaked his right hand to his brother’s cock. His Tully blue eyes fixed on the comely face of his beautiful Jon. He stroked the clothed bulge urgently until his Jon whimpered and came against his hand with a quiet moan.

He knew he should probably roll off his brother, his bigger constitution made him heavy. But he didn’t want to. So he stayed on top of his little Jon, watching him as he regained his breath.

“That-that was…” started his pretty brother.

“Amazing?” he finished with a smug smirk.

Jon bit his full and reddened lower lip, his mauve eyes looked at him warily and his tone was hesitant as he voiced his thoughts, “We-we can’t do it again, Robb… We’re brothers”

He felt an unexpected amount of rage at his Jon’s cautious words. He felt his blue eyes narrow on his little brother, his hands clutching his Jon more forcefully. He could see his half-brother wince at his strength and it pacified him a little. But the rage was still locked on his chest.

“You said you were mine”, he growled in a low voice.

“And I am, Robb, but I can’t be yours this way”, conveyed his brother.

With a frustrated snarl, he got off his Jon. He twirled and hit the warm stonewall of his cell. Jon was his. He had always been his. And he had always been meant to be his this way. He stared at the grey stones, feeling rage and frustration at the thought of not touching his Jon.

“You’re mine. You’ve always been meant for me”, he stated, his voice still rough.

His sibling had already stood up and was touching his arm gently, trying to soothe his fury, “Please, Robb, you know it’s forbidden… We’re males and siblings”

“We’re only half-brothers”, he retorted unthinkingly and harshly.

Jon flinched as though he had struck him, his fair face pained. His smaller brother hugged his shapely slender body and turned away from him. Robb sighed and came closer to his sibling and hugged him from the back.

His cock twitched at the warmth of his half-brother’s back and round buttocks. But he ignored it as he lowered his face to inhale the sweet aroma of his Jon, “I didn’t mean it like that, Jon. Cousins can marry, it seems silly for half-siblings not to be allowed to. And the old gods allow for siblings to marry and the North follows the old gods”

“You know no one would approve of-of _us_. Not even the North”, Jon laughed bitterly, “I am not a lovely sister maid who can strengthen the bloodline. I am your bastard brother. And you know no siblings have married in the North in decades”

He caressed his smaller sibling’s sides gently, “No one needs to know yet, I can wait until we can strengthen our position”

“There are no secrets in a castle and you know it, Robb!” replied the base born, “Do you truly think I don’t want to be yours? Do you think I don’t want you to embrace me? But-but you’re the heir, Robb, you cannot be so careless with your reputation”

His half-brother choked in his words and Robb knew him enough to know tears were cascading down his comely face.  His Jon’s words calmed his fury. He knew that Jon wanted to be his but wanted to stop for him. Jon had no status to lose, but Robb was the heir of Winterfell. Even now, he was trying to protect him.

He kissed his cheek softly, tasting the trail of tears, “I know, my love. We cannot be together in front of the people. But we can be together. We’ll have to be discreet and refrain from touching each other in a less than brotherly fashion in the castle. But we sometimes, at night, we’ll be able to be together like this”

“I-I’d like that”, whispered his beautiful Jon, his voice still hesitant but slightly hopeful.

 

 


	2. Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexuality threatens Robb/Jon's relationship.

It was reckless. That was all Jon could think about. His older half-brother parried ferociously against Theon. His blue Tully eyes were narrowed on his friend as he continually tried to hit his father's ward with his blunted sword. Jon bit his lower lip nervously. Robb's fierceness was because of him. Robb had heard Theon comment how as a bastard he was an "easy lay" and, with his beauty, he would not mind to help him gain some experience.

Given his possessive nature, his sibling had not taken the comment well. At the time, his brother had only glared at Theon and, now, he was parrying fiercely to teach him a lesson. The Heir of Winterfell was growing more possessive since the day they first kissed. Jon knew his brother wanted him more than ever and felt entitled to him. He had seen how Robb grinded his teeth when he heard anyone mention Jon growing lovely, even those who couldn't have any desire for him.

Robb fighting in such a manner with Theon was unusual. Jon bit his lower lip nervously and looked around. The spirited fight had attracted an audience after mere minutes. Quite a few guards and stable boys were watching attentively. Arya, of course, was in the first row with Bran, both watching eagerly the fight and occasionally cheering for their brother.

Sansa and her ridiculous friend Jeyne, the one who always watched both Theon and Robb admiringly, were watching from the castle and giggling behind their delicate hands. He resisted the urge to sneer. They loved pretending to be the perfect little ladies. Moreover, they loved being the perfect southron ladies. They didn't seem to realise that most northerners believed the ideal southron lady as weaklings. Lady Catelyn had been accepted for her ability to become a proper northern Lady, capable of managing the North while her husband was away, and for obvious fertility.

The attentive audience made him uneasy. It almost felt like his secret was being exposed to the world. Theon and Robb had always been good friends, despite the fact that Theon was a hostage. It was more than unusual for the Heir of Winterfell to parry with his friend in such a manner. He supposed that some of the northerners would be pleased, since not many people trusted the Ironborn. Many of them remembered the war with the Iron Islands and the deaths it had caused. It was only the youths that would be fooled by Theon's good looks and arrogant charm.

The twelve-year old fidgeted with his sleeved as his mauve eyes followed closely the fight. It was clear Robb, with his superior strength and skill, would win. But Theon had quite a few underhanded tricks, even though sword fighting was not up to his archery skill. The swords were blunted, meant only for practicing, but Jon was still apprehensive: a powerful blow of a sword could easily crack a head or a few ribs.

He wished Robb hadn't started such an intense fight with their Father's ward. That wasn't true. He had wanted his brother to distance himself from the Iron lander. He sighed with annoyance. Of course Robb would only open his eyes to his friend's true nature when it involved Jon and sex. He felt bitterness swell in his chest at the thought.

He had tried to tell his brother multiple times not to trust the Iron lander, but his sibling had insisted he was just prejudiced against his friend. Jon wasn't prejudiced. He was a bastard. It had been easy to determine that a man's character could be determined by how he treated those bellow him.

Father was always kind to the servants and always acknowledged them in small ways. If a servant fell ill, the Maester would treat him and his Father always told him not to spare any expense. When a keep of the north had problems with food, Father would always trade food with them without taking advantage of his superior position. Father had even brought his bastard son to raise with his true born children!

Father was a Lord of the North, he didn't need to do any of that, but he still did it any way. He won their unwavering loyalty that way. Jon had read of Lords being disliked by their people and it always had the same end. It would come sooner or later, but ultimately, the Lord or his grandchildren would die. It was one of the reasons he didn't want his relationship with his brother to be known. He knew how it would be seen and how it would diminish Robb in their eyes.

He shook his black curls slightly, trying to focus. Robb was always charming with the servants. He would smile at them and ruffle the children's hair and ask about their tasks if he had the time. It was true his brother especially tried to talk with the guards and the kitchen maids to ask for stories of war and for food, respectively. But Jon tried to talk with the rest of the servants and be kind to show them their appreciation. Winterfell's servants were loyal because of how they were treated and they also were a precious source of information.

Theon wasn't like his father or his brother. He liked to grope the maids, although he went no further for fear of Father. He leered at maids as young as eleven. He didn't know the name of a single servant and always ordered them around imperiously. He taunted Jon constantly out of his brother's hearing. He was proud of his heritage of rapists and murderers and talked all the time of how he would do the same. He spent all his gold in whores and wine.

The Heir of Winterfell had been blind to all that. Theon was his older brother figure and, though he admitted Theon was no golden knight, he didn't believe anything terrible of him. Jon had tried to tell him of the maid in tears he had found because of the Iron born's touch, but Robb had insisted the girl had not wanted to seem wanton.

Robb met Theon's sword with such a powerful stroke that the Iron born fell to the ground. The ward looked at his brother unbelieving, not understanding why suddenly his friend had sparred him so fiercely to the point of pushing him to the floor so aggressively. Ser Rodrick had to stop his brother for taking the fight any further.

His brother raised his Tully eyes and their eyes immediately met. Jon frowned, frustrated. Did Robb expect him to congratulate him? All of Winterfell would know of the fight soon enough and he could only hope Theon wouldn't guess the cause of the fight. It would be dangerous for the Iron lander to guess the true nature of the affection between Robb and him.

He turned around on his feet and left. He could feel his brother's gaze burning in his back. He knew his trueborn sibling wouldn't be pleased with his actions. But he had to show Robb that he didn't approve of being so recklessness. His brother's desire for him only seemed to grow and become more intense and Jon knew his brother couldn't afford to be so reckless.

He escaped to the godswood.

He inhaled deeply, breathing in the earthy scent of the North. He could feel the watchful eyes of the heart tree observing him as he kneeled slowly. He shrugged off the feeling; he had been listening to too many of Nan's stories. The Old Gods wouldn't bother watching over a bastard child like him. Still, it was always a religious experience to be in weirwood.

"Jon", said his brother, his voice low and rough.

The bastard of Winterfell shuddered. His brother's voice was changing from his childhood and it was now notably masculine. The tone of Robb's voice also indicated his anger at Jon. He raised his mauve eyes, finding his brother standing next to the Heart Tree. His blue Tully eyes were narrowed in displeasure and he was still wearing his training clothes.

He remained silent. He knew his brother was so angry that he wouldn't listen to him. Part of him wanted to reproach his brother for his behaviour. It had been reckless to start fighting Theon in such a manner over Jon's supposed sexual availability.  But he was furious over the fact that Robb hadn't believed Jon about the Ironborn.

His brother hadn't believed him about Theon. He had accused Jon of prejudice and defended his tormentor passionately. Even though Robb had heard some of the virulent comments Theon made to Jon over the years, he had refused to believe Theon wasn't a trust-worthy companion. He had even said that Theon was like a brother. That had hurt. Robb had never called him that with such fondness.

So Jon remained silent, looking at his brother with cold mauve eyes.

Robb stalked towards him, his voice tainted with annoyance, "Why did you leave?"

"Why did you fight with Theon in such an _indiscreet_ way?" questioned Jon coolly.

The Heir of Winterfell snorted in disbelief, "You heard what he said about you! He offered to fuck you to give you experience! He said that as a bastard you would be an easy lay!"

"Over the years, Theon has said much worse to you and none of that made you fight him like this", retorted angrily Jon.

Robb laughed loudly, "Is that what this is about? Those were mere jests, Jon"

Anger bubbled inside of Snow; he stood up prepared to leave his half-brother. How dare he call it only jests? Theon had insulted him gravely; he had called whoreson and worse. Nowadays he could shrug off the comments, but he had been a mere child when the Ironborn had started to mutter them into his ear.

His brother had only reacted when he had felt his ownership over him threatened. It had been then when he had fought passionately against the Ironborn. It had been then when he had watched Theon with spite in his blue Tully eyes. It had been then when he had sneered down at his father's ward. It hadn't been when Theon had called Jon a whore's son. Nor had it been when Jon had been ten and in tears for Theon's cruelty.

It was true that Robb had scolded the Ironborn when he had heard the vile comments on his parentage or Theon's barbed taunts. But nothing more. He certainly hadn't fought with him in the practice yard as though he wanted nothing more than his head to spike on the door of Winterfell.

Strong arms enveloped his thinner waist as his brother hugged him from behind, "Don't be like this, Jon. I did what I had to do"

Warmth erupted from his brother's body touching his back, but he wasn't going to be so easily placated, "Leave me alone"

"Come on, Jon", tried to sway him the Heir.

The baseborn bit his lower lip harshly as his brother began kissing his neck. Pleasure sparking through his veins with every touch. He could feel Robb's warmth more strongly along his back; through the thick clothes he could even feel his brother's cock hardening against his small back. The lordling's hands stroked his sides coaxingly, making his shiver with desire.

"No... Stop it, Robb ", he ordered his brother harshly, trying to maintain his cold façade, trying to keep his anger in mind.

The Heir of Winterfell ignored his protests, his hands gripping his hips more harshly as he started to ground his cock against Jon's round arse. A moan of pleasure escaped his mouth before he could prevent it. The kisses on his slender pale neck becoming nips that stung a bit. There was a distant sound of an animal moving. The bastard regained his bearings and struggled, but his brother was stronger.

"Robb, we're outside! Stop it!" he bit out sternly, his mauve eyes on the woods. He hoped that there was no one to hear.

His brother ignored him and coaxed, "Elbows and knees, Jon, come on"

"Robb, anyone could see!" protested Jon, but at his trueborn sibling's insistence, he succumbed and assumed the position.

He sighed as he felt the Heir draped himself around his body. He felt safe and protected with the bigger boy covering his entire body. Robb rutted against his arse and mouthed his jaw possessively. It startled a broken moan from Jon. His sibling started snuck his hand inside his breeches and caressed his cock. The intensity left him breathless. His protests dissolved as he let the pleasure overcome him.

"Robb, Robb, Robb", he moaned.

His brother kissed his sensual lips passionately, before whispering against them, "You're mine, Jon, mine, we're meant to be together"

The baseborn whimpered, thrusting into his brother's hand, "Yours, always yours, Robb"

It didn't take long for Jon to come into his brother's hand with a breathless whine. The lordling's hand remained in the baseborn's trousers until he came as he rutted into his shapely buttocks with a pleasure filled groan.

They remained in the position for a few seconds, both breathless.

Silently, Robb took out his hand from his brother's breeches and cleaned the seed with the snow on the ground. The Heir of Winterfell stood up then, regaining his full height. To Jon's eyes, he seemed like a grown man in that moment, his expression cold but his blue eyes following Jon's movements with desire despite just having come.

"We shall talk tomorrow", stated the Heir.

Incredulously, the baseborn watched as his half-brother left towards the castle, leaving him kneeling in the snow in his stained trousers. He expected Robb to turn back to him but his broad-shouldered figure disappeared quickly into the woods.

He tightened his fists. His relationship with his brother had also changed since the first kiss. The easy companionship Robb and him had had was no more. Now, the Heir to the North only sought him out to whisper dirty fantasies in his ear or to steal kisses in alcoves. When Robb came into his room, like a thief in the night, he came for release. There were no more whispered conversations, exchanging childish hopes and dreams.

It hurt. He had heard whispered conversations about what bastards were good for, that bastards were wanton and libidinous, that their only skills were in the bed. Did Robb believe that of him now? That he was only a body created for release? That he was wanton and a whore like his mother? That he was only good for fucking? He felt a lump in his throat.

He wished his brother asked about his opinions again or that he stroked his cheek sweetly. When Robb came into his room, his actions were never soft or sweet. He was possessive and aggressive. It felt more like he was staking his claim than making love. His brother sought to mark all his skin and his hands tightened on his skin commandingly.

As he kneeled in front of the heart tree, Jon wished his brother would say: "I love you", instead of "You're mine".


	3. Robb II

Robb looked at the ceiling of his bedroom as he tried to fall asleep. He was incredibly nervous about tomorrow. He was supposed to speak with Jon, then. He had never thought he would be so agitated over a conversation with his half-brother. Since they were children, Robb had always known what was on his baseborn brother’s mind, but no more.

Jon had changed since the first night they had laid together. He was more distant. At the beginning, he had told himself that Jon was just afraid of discovery. After all, Jon had always been protective of Robb and his position as the Heir of Winterfell, especially because as a bastard Jon was suspect of treachery to gain the Lordship. Even though, all of Winterfell and Wintertown knew that Jon would rather die than steal his place.

In the North, male lovers weren’t reviled like in the South. The Old Gods were far more lenient than the Seven. The only male relationships the Seven approved were that of man and carrier. However, a carrier was discovered when he fell pregnant, so there were no carriers in the South. There was no legal penalty for male lovers in the South but the High Septon preached that it was sin, so all the Houses who had a Septa had been taught what a horrible sin it was.

In the North, male lovers were a more common practice. There were two sort of male lovers: the companion and the consort. In war especially, it was normal to seek a companion. These relationships were highly respected. This practice avoided the rapes that usually went with war and the bastards that caused. It also strengthened the ties between the men, which only made them stronger in battle. Most men only lay with other men in wartimes, but the close friendship was expected to last for a lifetime and even longer between the two lines.

The most common homosexual practice was the companion, but there was also the consort. A consort was the male spouse of a man, who he had married in front of the Old Gods. In the North, this was considered a true marriage, even if it wasn’t well regarded. For inheritance and to continue the lineage, the dominant man in the relationship would name his heir a relative or he would also marry a woman as his wife.

It was incredibly frustrating for Robb to realise that had he been born in another house, his relationship with Jon would be accepted. But the North would probably never accept them. Jon was a bastard and Robb was Heir to the North. On top of that, they were half-brothers. Furthermore, Robb’s mother was a Southron and she believed male lovers to be a great sin.

He sighed. And Jon was pulling away from him and the more his brother tried to distance himself, the harder Robb tried to keep him by his side. Jon was meant to be by his side. The Heir of Winterfell had known that since he was a child. But now his brother was trying to leave him and he couldn’t really understand what was in his mind anymore. He hoped at least tomorrow would clear the air between them.

When he woke up early in the morning, he still felt the same restlessness of last night. He cleaned his face and changed his clothes quickly; he wished to speak with his brother before the lessons with Maester Luwin. The sooner he could find what was in Jon’s mind, the sooner he would have his lover by his side again.

He was entering Jon’s cell before the sun had fully risen. It was still a bit dark in his brother’s cell; he had yet to open his curtains. He could see the figure of his brother cleaning his face, he was shirtless and he could see the faint outline of his lean chest. He knew his half-sibling had heard him come in, but he was ignoring him.

“Jon”, he called softly.

His lover sighed frustrated, setting the water basin on his wooden commode, “What do you want, Robb?”

“We need to talk, you know that”, he said, frowning at Jon’s attitude.

“What is there to talk of?” inquired his brother, his tone surprisingly bitter.

“Jon?” asked Robb cautiously, “What do you mean?”

His lover twirled, looking towards him. The sun had almost risen completely, it was still dark due to the curtains but he could see his brother’s features more clearly. There was true anguish in Jon’s beautiful face and Robb couldn’t understand why it was there. He swallowed thickly, trying to think of what he could have done wrong.

“You just want me to warm your bed, Robb Stark! After all, that is all bastards are good for, aren’t they?” retorted his brother in a harsh hiss.

The words made him furious. The Heir to the North, breathed in deeply trying to assuage his fury, it wouldn’t do to start yelling his relationship with his half-sibling to the whole castle of Winterfell.

“What is this idiocy? If I merely wanted someone to warm my bed, I would surely choose someone who wouldn’t harm my reputation!” he answered, disbelief and anger colouring every word.

This response seemed to quiet his brother for a moment, but he soon answered, “And what was yesterday? You took me like a wench in the middle of the Godswood! Anyone could have seen us! It’s still in Winterfell!”

“I fought with Theon over you and you just left”, countered angrily Robb.

“Yes! After years of Theon tormenting me, you only react when he encroaches your territory”, hissed his brother, his mauve eyes narrowed and furious.

“You think I’ve never wanted to punch him before?” asked incredulous Robb with a bitter laugh, “Because I have! But I wasn’t your lover before, I had no right to fight in your instead! If I had done so, it would mean I saw you as a weakling! And I didn’t want you or the entire Winterfell believing that”

“But- yesterday, you said they were only jests”, whispered his brother uncertain.

“I had to tell myself that to not kill him! Do you think I had never gone to Father to complain about those comments? He told me you had to deal with Theon yourself, that as a baseborn you would hear often and if I punched every person who made a comment, I was just saying you couldn’t take care of yourself”

Jon watched him quietly, his anger abated, “Then why did you fight Theon yesterday?”

“Because now I have a right to fight for you, I am your lover. I thought you would see that I want to defend you. When everyone asked, I would tell them about the maid you told me about. The one who was in tears because of Theon”, answered Robb tiredly, “Do you truly think that you’re only a bedwarmer for me?”

The baseborn blushed and looked away, “Since the first night… You have only sought me for that”

“I want to lay with you, Jon, I love kissing you. But you’re my Jon and you have been my Jon long before we laid together. If things were different I would make you my consort, surely you know that?” asked softly Robb.

His beautiful brother was quiet. His silence was what said the most to the Heir of Winterfell. With a sad sigh, the Stark came closer. He took his bastard brother right hand in his softly, his thumb caressing his knuckles. His other hand went to stroke Jon’s face and he brought their foreheads together.

“I love you, Jon Snow, don’t you ever dare believe any different. We might argue and yell and fight each other, but I will always love you and I will always love you best”, he whispered in a rough voice.

There was a choked sound from his lover and then; Jon’s sweet lips were kissing him ferociously. Robb closed his Tully eyes as his hand enclosed the smaller waist of his brother, pulling him closer. His half-brother pulled him towards the bed and the Stark gladly let him. He crouched over his bastard brother on the bed, stealing kiss after kiss.

“I was so afraid you would leave me”, whispered the Heir of Winterfell amongst kisses.

His lover widened his mauve eyes in disbelief, “Never, Robb, never”

“You wouldn’t say anything, you’d just glare at me and the only way to make you react was to kiss you silly”, he said sadly.

“I thought you only wanted to bed me, you never talked to me or confided in me anymore”, answered Jon caressing his cheek softly.

The Heir shook his head, “You’re always going to be my confidante. There’s no one I trust more. I want you to always be by my side”

Snow smiled and leaned up to steal another kiss, “I’ll always be by your side”

Robb grinned widely at his words, kissing him more deeply than ever before. Then he leant his forehead on his brother’s, “You belong by my side, Jon… never try to leave me, because I’ll never let you go. I couldn’t bear it”

Jon laughed, “I love you, Robb, never leave me because I’ll never leave you”

They spent at least an hour in bed, trading kisses and confidences. It was ironic that the source of their conflict had been in their fear that they would abandon each other. And it was reassuring to whisper their fear and have the other refuse it so strongly.

It wasn’t until it was time for Maester Luwin’s lesson that they left the bed. Their lips were swollen but their wide smiles hid it. When they walked towards the Maester’s Turret, the companionship that had always been between them was there again. They shared smiles and brushed their hands together.

It felt freeing to know where they stood with each other again. Incorporating the passion in their relationship had left both of them uncertain of how to behave, even though they had both wanted it. But after this morning, they felt stronger than ever, their belief in each other unshakable. Robb smiled, he knew they would probably fight each other, that it would be hard to hide the change in their relationship, but it would always be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conflict from the previous chapter is resolved and it really strengthens their relationship. I think resolving all these doubts early on, will make a strong foundations for their relationship, which will be definitely needed for the Game of Thrones.


	4. Jon II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robb and Jon are closer in this verse. This causes a bit of a butterfly effect, like for instance Jon has a better education. It also means they discuss more stuff between them. Especially because I think smallfolk are more willing to speak around Jon, since they don't realise he's a Stark bastard or he's dressed more discreetly, ect. And in this verse, Jon does explain to Robb what the smallfolk is thinking. So that'll change more things.
> 
> All in all, I hope to make Robb and Jon more prepared for the Game of Thrones.

Jon hummed contently as he traced his brother's pale skin. Robb had sneaked into his bed, early at night, as he was wont to do since they were children. They still had the entire night before the sun went up. Five moons had passed since the first kiss they shared and they were now thirteen. His brother had grown a lot in those five moons; he was taller and had broader shoulders and he also had the beginnings of a beard.

"I can't believe you're already growing a beard", said Jon, caressing the rough hairs.

Robb shrugged with a cheeky grin, "Jealous?"

The baseborn smirked, "I don't think a beard would suit me"

His brother smiled and traced Jon's high cheekbones and elegant Valyrian features, "You're right. Besides, Valyrians don't usually grow beards and your mother definitely had traces of Valyrian blood"

Snow looked away, uncomfortable with the mention of his mother. He had been hearing the growing whispers of the great beauty, Ashara Dayne, and the thought of her fate stung. He smiled weakly and retorted, "I thought the only Valyrians left were the Targaryens. My features could be like the Andals, they are less hairy than the Northmen"

"The Targaryens are the only ones with almost only Valyrian blood, but many houses married with Valyrians. The blood is diluted but it's still there. I think that's where this beautiful face comes from", finished Robb teasingly, leaning to give him a kiss.

Jon acquiesced easily, kissing his brother back, before saying quietly, "I do wish Father would tell me who my mother was"

His brother looked back at him, his Tully eyes solemn. His bigger hand sought Jon's and squeezed it comfortingly; "He will soon, we are men, now"

Jon looked away. He didn't want to speak no more of his mother. His Father still said no word, not even a hint about her. He was thirteen. Some men were married by his age. He had hoped his father would say something by his name day, but it was in vain. His father's unwillingness to speak her name or even whether she was a camp follower was fearsome. He forced a smile on his attractive face.

"Well, almost men", he retorted, knowing it would drive Robb crazy.

"Almost? We are men!" exclaimed Robb in theatrical indignation.

"Is that why you're still in lessons with Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik and have no other duties?" he asked teasingly.

Robb's handsome face twisted in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"Well, as heir of Winterfell, when you become a man, Father shall give you additional duties. So that you meet your future vassals and learn how to manage the North", he replied, his fingers doing circles on Robb's pale skin.

His brother sat up abruptly, his bare chest gleaming under the pale light of the candle beside his bed. What Jon had thought would be an amusing conversation, seemed to have turn quite solemn. Robb seemed a bit uncertain, but at the same time excited.

"Do you think I should ask Father for additional duties?" inquired his brother, his face unusually serious.

He studied his half-brother's face with deep mauve eyes. This truly mattered to Robb. He had never before expressed such an interest in his role as an Heir of Winterfell. He studied and trained hard with that goal in mind, but he had never seemed so... passionate about the role. He had never wanted to become so involved before. His Robb was becoming a man and he wished to take the responsibilities of one.

Jon sat up as well to face the Stark, thoughtful, "Well, I suppose you're almost a man. It would be normal for you to start helping Father in some matters, so that he can teach you. I mean- Father will live a long time, but if you help him, he can attend to more matters. I suppose that when winter comes, it will be specially helpful"

His brother nodded gravely, "Father is Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. He has more responsibilities than most Lords. Vayon Poole is a very good steward and Mother helps as well, but that only helps with the castle of Winterfell, not the lands"

"That is true... I believe Father would agree to give you more duties. Although not too many at first and starting with easy things. You would still attend classes at the beginning I believe", he stated thoughtfully.

"What do you believe I should do first?" asked Robb engrossed in their conversation.

Jon felt his heart flutter at the trust his brother was showing him. Most trueborns were wary of their bastard siblings, but Robb trusted him enough to know he only wanted him to become a great Lord. He was also keeping his promise of Jon always being his confidante. Despite Robb's assurances, he had feared that he would cast aside when his brother realised he was the heir and Jon was just a bastard, but here he was asking for his counsel.

In that moment, Jon swore to himself never to doubt his brother's love for him again. If his lover hadn't casted him away in the last thirteen years, it was unlikely he would do so now. Robb was a honourable boy and he wouldn't break his promises to Jon. His brother truly loved him, even wanted him to be his consort!

He smiled and tried to focus on the question. His first thought was of easy tasks: helping accounting for the expenses and incomes of Winterfell, listening to the reports of the household and maybe to be present when Father held court. However, both Lady Stark and steward Poole aided in those tasks.

As a future Lord, it was very important to know the houses of the North. Robb already knew the people of Winterfell and Wintertown and many houses had come to visit Winterfell. However, he didn't know any of them on a more personal level and it would honour them to have Robb know each of them personally. It would also help Robb to know which Lords to trust and how to treat each of them.

Jon bit his lower lip, "I think it would be good for you to know the North before you inherit it. Maybe you should start making trips to the seats of the different Houses. You can meet your people this way and they will feel honoured that you wish to know their house.

>>Father didn't have time for that, since he became a Lord very young. But right now, you don't have many duties. You could take some trips to every House sworn to the Starks. You shouldn't express too much of an interest, since you don't want them to think you wish to rule them more closely, they might resent that. However, you can show them that you care about them and their house"

Robb frowned, "That doesn't really sound like a duty. I like travelling, what little I have done"

"It is your duty to know your sworn houses as their liege and to create ties with them. You're also only thirteen so I doubt Father will let you go very far yet. But if you said you wanted to go nearby -like Deepwood Motte or Torrhen's Square- he would agree. The trip would be no longer than half a moon. And, as you grow, you could start visiting more keeps. You could also start attending when Father is given reports or asked for things by the smallfolk", responded Jon, biting his lower lip.

He wanted to help Robb become a great Lord of Winterfell and he was ecstatic that Robb wanted to hear his opinions and discuss all these with him. However, he had fewer studies than Robb (although not by much). So he wasn't sure how much help he could be. He did believe in the advice he had given. The North would be faithful to the Starks, who had ruled them for eight thousand years.

However, Jon had heard amongst the small folk that Rickard Stark's southerner ambitions had caused the North to be involved with the Rebellion. It was said that if their grandfather hadn't wished for a southerner marriage for their children, Rhaegar wouldn't have ever met Lyanna and wouldn't have kidnapped her. They said that a man like that would surely have kidnapped another girl, but it wouldn’t have been a northerner. Therefore, the North would have stayed outside the matters of the realm and outside the war.

They also weren't that happy about the Lord of Winterfell building a Sept of the Seven in the heart of Winterfell. They especially didn't like that the Stark children visited the Sept and had a Septa as a teacher for the girls. They were afraid that when Robb became the Lord of Winterfell, he would encourage worship to the Seven.

Jon believed that if Robb visited the keeps of the North, the fear that Robb would be too much of a southerner would be assuaged. It would also honour his people and would create stronger ties with the different keeps. Jon wanted Robb to be perceived as a true Northerner, despite his Tully blood.

"That makes sense I suppose. Father will definitely let me attend the reports and the open court with the peasants. About the trips, it would make sense to start by keeps near Winterfell ", agreed Robb thoughtfully, "Father will probably also make me help Mother or Steward Poole"

"By the way, I've never wanted to say anything outright but... now that you're older, you should probably not visit the Sept so much. I believe the North will be weary if you do so, as they might believe you worship more the Seven more than the Old Gods. They might fear a change of worship", Jon explained hesitantly

He hoped Robb didn't believe he said it as a slight against his mother. He just didn't want the North to fear Robb's worship and he knew his half-brother wasn't a particularly devout person. If anything, he was more devout to the Old Gods, probably because the impression heart tree made.

"Have you heard rumours about it?" inquired Robb, looking at him expectantly.

Snow blushed, his brother knew the servants and peasants had a looser tongue around him, "I have"

"Well... Then, I will just the Seven when Mother asks me to", stated Robb determinedly, "I want 

the Northmen to trust me as their future liege Lord"


	5. Robb III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Cannon, Robb goes from practicing with wooden swords (Joffrey taunted him) and having lessons with Maester Luwin to being in charge of Winterfell (with little to no help, since the steward is gone and his mother is traumatized) and fighting a war. In this fic, Robb will have more experience. He'll still be young but he'll have more experience and he'll have Jon by his side.

Robb was washing up after the hard training of the morn. After his fierce spar with Theon, Ser Rodrik had decided that he and Jon were to fight with blunted swords instead of wooden. He was very proud of the change, but a metal sword weighted more than a wooden one. Their training was also more advanced. Instead of fighting with people his age, Robb and Jon were now fighting against guards. Ser Rodrik had started with young guards, but when he realised both Robb and Jon could defeat them, he had moved to more experienced guards.

The change of sparring partners had made their swordplay better in little time. In a few moons, Jon had managed to be capable of defeating almost all the guards. His brother had always been excellent in swordplay; he was wickedly fast and cunning.

Robb wasn’t as good, he was better at jousting, but he could defeat almost as many as his sibling. Robb’s strategy had always been to use his strength against his opponent that had worked well with the boys and squires his age. However, the guards were stronger than him. So Jon had been helping him to not rely so much on strength and learn how to turn an enemies’ strength against them. In return, he was helping Jon with jousting.

The new training was exhausting, but rewarding. Robb and Jon now knew every guard in Winterfell on a more personal basis and they all respected the siblings, not because of their Stark heritage, but because of their prowess. It felt good to be respected for his achievements. The camaraderie with the guards felt amazing. People he met kept a certain distance with him due to their difference of rank; no one in the North could match his status as Heir of the North. However, the guards weren’t as distant with him anymore.

He put on decent clothes. He closed his Tully eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to remain calm. He was going to speak with his Father about taking more responsibilities. He had been talking about it all night with Jon, so he knew what he should say and how to say it. But he was still nervous, what if his father didn’t take him seriously? What if his father thought him a child?

He walked through Winterfell, with the fear of rejection in his heart. He was anxious, but he still made sure to stop and greet all the servants he encountered. Usually, he did it out of common courtesy. But Jon had made sure to tell him how important it was to treat servants well. Servants were the closest people to the family. They were the ones who could poison them easily or slay them in their sleep.

Robb had laughed at that point. He couldn’t imagine any of the servants in Winterfell deliberately hurting any member of the family. He was used to Old Nan telling him stories, the kitchen maids sneaking food, the guards japing with him… He just couldn’t conceive it.

However, Jon had taken him up to the library and had showed him a book that explained the Pomery hanging. The Pomerys had been the Lords of a few lands in the North. They had been of little consequence; they had little wealth or status. However, the Pomerys were inclined to cruelty. They raped, tortured and killed in their lands.

As their lands were rather isolated in the North, the Warden of the North had not known of their cruelty. Their smallfolk had been terrified into compliance and wouldn’t say a word. Their obedience had lasted for two generations. Then, the smallfolk had decided that obedience was worse than the alternative. The servants had let the smallfolk in and, together, they had hanged the entire family for their crimes.

Jon had continued to show him accounts of servants betraying their Lord: a Lady’s maid had shown the enemy a secret passage into the castle, a cook had poisoned an heir, a guard had stabbed his lord… All the stories had the same common factor: the servants had not been treated well. He could still remember his brother’s serious expression as he whispered, _“Do you see now, Robb?”_

And he had nodded. It had been hard to wrap around his head the betrayals, it had been even harder to wrap around the cause of those betrayals. But he had learnt. He had learnt that it was easy to let atrocities happen to servants and not speak up for them. He had learnt a servant could also hold a grudge. It had been startling to realise that every person, no matter his or her status had power. He was used to songs of the tales of great lords and knights and ladies. And he had discovered that the kitchen maid could kill him even more easily than the knight.

It had been humbling. So Robb remembered and he acknowledged every servant. He knew all their names and whether they had families. He asked Jon to tell him when any of them married or had a child so he could congratulate them personally. He didn’t really know almost any of them on a personal level, but they were warmer to him than they were to his mother or even his father.

He paused in front of the door to his Father’s solar. He breathed in deeply. If he truly wanted to be a man, he should start behaving like a man. He knew what he wished to ask and he doubted Father would deny him. The worst Father could do was reject his request. It would hurt, because it would mean Father saw him as a child, but it wasn’t the second coming of the Long Night. He knocked.

“Come in”, called his Father.

Robb came in quietly. Father’s serious grey eyes raised from the documents in front of him. The Lord of Winterfell seemed surprised to see him there, since his children rarely interrupted him in his solar when he was working. He nodded to Robb and put away his quill.

“Father, I am now ten and three and I wish to take on more duties as the Heir of Winterfell”, said Robb, it was hard to not mask his anxiety, yet his voice sounded strong and sure.

Eddard Stark studied his son’s face, “Why do you wish for that Robb?”

He paused. He knew he had to show his Father that this wasn’t some sort of caprice. He wanted to prove that he was taking this seriously.

“I am becoming a man, Father, and I wish to be a man who is worthy of being the Heir of the North”, he answered earnestly.

The Warden of the North remained quiet for a few moments, clearly thinking upon what his son was telling him, “Is it not enough that you can now handle steel instead of wood in swordplay?”

“If I were to be a guard or a knight that might be enough, but I shall have more responsibilities in the future and I would like to learn from you how to handle them”, he responded, he refrained from clenching his hands, even though he could feel the sweat in them.

Lord Stark’s stern grey eyes were focused on him, “What sort of duties where you thinking of?”

“I wish to learn more of the North. I would like to be there when you are given reports of the North and when you hold court with the smallfolk. I would also like to visit the most notable keeps of the North, to learn more about our banner men and their homes”, he answered, “I would also like to learn more of managing Winterfell and I know Mother and Steward Poole could show me the accounting and the house reports”

His Father smiled slowly, “I believe you are ready to take some responsibility. I will hold court with the smallfolk next week, I wish for you to be there. You shall also have lessons with Steward Poole. If you do well, I will allow you a small trip to another keep, do you have one in mind?”

“For my first trip I thought I could go to Sea Dragon Point, I would visit Deepwood Motte and Bear Island. I wish to meet House Forrester, Woods, Branch and Bole as well as House Glover and Mormont”, he stated confidently.

Lord Eddard Stark looked at him, “Why have you chosen this route?”

He and Jon had spent the entire night debating where he should go first. This first trip had been deemed the best. Robb had already met the members of House Glover; they were loyal and true to the Starks. Going there on his first trip would be a way to reward their loyalty. The Wolfswood was close to Winterfell; it would be wise to maintain the alliance of those houses.

“These Houses have proven to be true to you, Father. It would be a reward for their loyalty to be the first Houses I visit. Furthermore, Wolfswood and Bear Island is in a strategic position, they are the lands that have protected Winterfell northwest from wildlings and ironborns. It is important to know their layout”, Robb answered.

“You have answered well, Robb”, stated his Father, pride evident in his solemn face, “I will inform Maester Luwin that your lessons with him will be shortened as you will aid me and Steward Poole more. This is a great step in your path to manhood, I am proud of you”

A weight on his chest lightened and he smiled broadly. He was ecstatic to receive such praise from his Father, “Thank you, Father, I shall do my best to become the Heir that the North deserves”


	6. Jon III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of porny and doesn't have much of a plot, but I wanted to show how their intimate relationship is: intense with a dominant Robb mostly

# 

Jon entered the small study. He had looked for his brother in his chambers, but he hadn’t found him and had immediately thought of the small study. It was were the Stark children usually studied or read since it was closer than the library. Before his new duties, when he couldn’t find Robb he knew to go to the practice yard, now he would find Robb here many nights.

The Heir of the North was hunched over the wooden table, looking over numerous documents. He was still wearing his normal day attire; he probably hadn’t even had a bath yet. Jon sighed as he saw the numbers and realised they were even more house reports. Robb was determined to learn about the common expenses of Winterfell, he wished to know how much everything cost since he would start attending the negotiations soon. A keep like Winterfell had a lot of expenses, even thought many were provided by the castle itself, many had to be bought from Wintertown and other places. It was important to know the average price and quantities needed for the maintenance of the castle, therefore, Robb was doing his best to memorise every single expense.

His brother didn’t really like numbers that much, so Jon was proud of his dedication to becoming a good Lord. However, Robb had been looking over the numbers every night for the past nine days. He was starting to look completely exhausted; his lover had black rings under his eyes. Furthermore, his swordplay in the practice yard had been sloppy this morning, which was dangerous. He knew his lover wanted to prove himself, yet, it was his first negotiation, Steward Poole probably didn’t even expect the Heir to open his mouth in the entire negotiation.

He closed the door behind him and made sure to lock it. His brother didn’t even raise his stunning Tully eyes at the noise, too focused on the documents in front of him. Jon quietly approached his lover from behind. Robb didn’t startle when he put his hands on his broad shoulders and started to knead them lightly.

“Keep doing that”, sighed Robb, closing his blue eyes and leaning back.

He smiled and kissed his brother’s furrowed brow softly, “You have been working too many nights, Robb”

“You know my first negotiation is soon”, replied his brother, still, there was no heat in his voice as he relaxed under Jon’s hands.

He kissed his lover’s cheekbone lightly, “I know, my love, but it’s no use to exhaust yourself anymore. You have already looked at the numbers; you know them well. You’ll just tire yourself looking at them again and again”

He blushed, realising he had just called his brother “my love” for the first time. Nevertheless, Robb didn’t seem to realise and his galloping heart slowed down. He thanked the Old Gods that his sibling couldn’t see his face, for surely he would have realised had he seen Jon blush like a maiden.

“I want to be prepared! I don’t want to look like a fool”, complained the Heir sulkily.

“I could ask you questions and if you do well, you will accompany me to my chambers. What do you think?” he asked with a calm voice, trying to soothe his brother.

Robb twisted around and dragged him into his lap, his tone was teasing as he stated, “Go ahead and test me, Jon”

Jon hid his beautiful face in his brother’s shoulder for a moment, hiding his blush. He could smell the scent of Robb, the pure scent of oak and smoke and male. He could feel the heat of his brother’s big hand on his back and the other on his waist through the thin material of his nightwear. He raised his face from his hiding place and looked into his blue eyes. His heart was beating wildly against his chest and he wanted nothing more than to kiss his lover.

However, when he tried to kiss his brother’s lips, his sibling put his index on his lips, a teasing smile on his handsome face, “I can’t get my reward if I don’t answer the question right first”

Jon laughed lightly, “Well, then, I’ll have to start questioning you, Heir Stark”

He was sitting sideways on his brother’s lap, so it wasn’t hard to gather all the parchments against his chest and look at the numbers sneakily. He tried to find an easy account to start of; the expense of metal was fairly consistent. Although they had Mikken as a blacksmith, he still needed materials to work with.

“What is the expense of metal in Winterfell?” he inquired cheekily, hugging the documents against his chest.

“That’s an easy one”, replied his brother smugly and leant to say the response in his small ear.

He shuddered at the breath in his sensitive ear and could barely answer, “Yes, that’s right”

Jon felt warmth in his gut as he saw Robb smirk. His brother kissed his lips passionately, his left hand tightening around his waist and his right hand pushing him closer to him. He whined when the Heir of Winterfell broke off the kiss. His half-brother looked so handsome under the candlelight, he could see the red highlights in his hair and his sparse beard and the shadows made his features look more mature. It was a peek to the handsome man the Heir of the North would become.

“Come on, Jon, next question”, insisted his brother even as his thumbs caressed his skin in rotation.

He blinked and tried to regain his head. He had always known the way Robb affected him, but usually it wasn’t so evident because Robb himself couldn’t keep his hands off him. And yet, to see Robb restrain himself with such tight control… it was arousing in a way, especially because he could feel his lover’s awakening interest beneath his arse.

“Right, well… next question is, what is the expense of wax in Winterfell?”

Once again, his handsome brother leant to whisper the answer right against his ear. Jon could barely moan that the answer was right before his older brother took control of his mouth, this time his tongue entering his mouth and conquering ardently. It was over all too soon and he couldn’t stop his whine when his lover shifted away again.

This time the question was harder and Robb answered it right again. His older sibling kissed him again and when he stopped, Jon was breathing heavily. Even though his brother’s expression was amused, his blue eyes were glinting with arousal and he could feel his hard cock underneath his arse.

The game continued. Jon would ask increasingly difficult questions and Robb would answer them correctly and ravish him for a minute before shifting away looking amused. It wasn’t until Jon had asked the last possible question that his brother smirked. His lover grasped his hips and sat him on the table. Then he rose, looking still amused and only betrayed by the tent in his trousers, and moved towards another table.

Jon shifted on hard wooden table, his mauve eyes trained on his lover. His anticipation was killing him. He wanted for nothing more than for his brother to come over and finish him. But Robb was clearly enjoying the expectation as he ordered the house reports.

“Robb”, he whined in complain.

His brother turned to look at him, a broad smirk on his attractive face as he ordered, “Take off your clothes, Jon”

He untied his dressing gown quickly, his nightgown and took off his boots and his underpants, leaving him only wearing the thin camisole that reached his mid thigh. He raised his mauve eyes uncertainly to look at his completely dressed brother, who was watching him with heated eyes.

His lover approached him confidently. Jon bit his lower lip as Robb’s big hands pulled his knees further apart for his brother to step between them. His brother slowly shifted closer between his legs, his blue eyes trained on his own. He wished he could lower his eyes, but it felt like he couldn’t break the intense eye contact with his lover.

His brother’s hand caressed his cheek. His brother had grown so much these lasts months that it almost encompassed all the left side of face. He looked at the blue eyes, begging for him to touch him and to claim him. But Robb didn’t kiss him, his hand moved to his long neck and then continued his trail to his nipple. The thick thumb teased his sensitive nipple through the camisole. Jon could barely breathe.

The hand continued his trail down until it reached the end of the camisole and his lover smiled at him as he slowly raised it with both hands. Jon raised his arms obligingly so that his Robb could take it off more easily. Once he was completely naked, Robb joined their foreheads, while his hands rested warmly on his hips.

“You’re so beautiful, Jon”, he whispered before plunging to take his mouth.

Robb’s sparse beard rubbed against his sensitive skin and he knew he would have to put on a salve. He was so far gone that he could only moan against his brother and clutch his shoulders, needy. His brother left his mouth to focus on his neck and then moved to the same nipple he had teased before. Once he had wrenched more moans from him, his lover moved even lower.

And then, Robb’s mouth was on his cock. Jon couldn’t think anymore. He had heard of the act, but he had never thought it could feel so good. It was simply… He had never felt so much pleasure in his life. One of his hands must have gone to his lover’s hair because Robb suddenly pinned both of his wrists against the table as he continued to suck his cock.

He could vaguely hear himself whispering, “Robb, Robb, please, Robb” like a litany. He should be embarrassed. However, he was in too much pleasure to feel anything else. He felt stripped of his barriers and raw and naked in front of his fully clothed lover who was sucking his cock.

He could barely warn his lover, “I-I’m going to –Robb”

Then he was coming and everything went white and silent for a moment. When he opened his eyes, he was slumped over the table. His brother was standing between his legs, urgently jerking off his cock as he looked into Jon’s face as though he was the most arousing and beautiful thing in the world.

“I love you Robb”, he whispered quietly, intently.

His brother groaned and came all over his lower stomach.


	7. Robb IV

# 

Robb was washing up after the hard training of the morn. He enjoyed sparring with the guards, his ability with the sword had improved rapidly. His harder training regime was also developing his strength. Although his muscles burnt every morning, he could see the change in his physique. He still didn’t have the body of a true grown man, but he was much closer than before.

He smirked; Jon certainly appreciated the change if his lingering glances were to be believed. His beautiful Jon who grew comelier and comelier by the day. He closed his blue eyes briefly as the image of Jon pinned to the table and climaxing flashed his mind.

He shook his head resignedly. He didn’t have enough time to take care of the excitement the lovely memory had evoked. He had to meet up with his mother and the steward to look over the accounts and discuss how to sell the excess food from the glasshouses. He had already reviewed the past accounts and he knew the excess of food was sold to different regions depending on the caducity of the food. The hardest part would be to prepare the logistics of how to bring the food to the area.

He smiled as he started clothing. He felt much more confident in his knowledge of the accounts since the negotiations he had witnessed. It had been a long, exhausting day since they had had to speak with many different suppliers. The long haggle of the price had been excruciating. Robb really didn’t understand why there was the need for it to be so long, since the price ended up being almost the same as in the last times. The differences were minute.

Thankfully, as Jon had predicted, he hadn’t had to say much. However, the steward had taken the same decisions, as Robb would have done in his place. It was definitely a relief to see that his decisions were logical and approved of. He questioned what his own capability to haggle would be, although he doubted the suppliers would haggle in the same manner with a lordling.

Still, he was glad to see the fruits of his labour. Robb wanted to be a great Warden of the North, like his father was. In truth, more than his dutiful nature motivated him. He didn’t seek glory as the Lord of Winterfell. However, he had the hope, that if he was widely respected, he would be able to make Jon his consort.

He knew that the Warden of the North marrying his bastard brother would not be a popular decision, there were be far too many eager northern Lords who wanted to see their daughters as the next Lady of Winterfell. Nevertheless, if he were to become greatly loved and respected by the people, his decision would be accepted, even if reluctantly.

Had he been a minor Lord, Robb could have made his bastard brother his consort with no trouble and even support. But for the Lord of Winterfell, it was such an unwise decision politically wise. He hoped that having Jon by his side when he started the trips through the North would cement his brother in the Lords’ eyes as a good, worthy man.

He had to be careful, though. He should cultivate an image of inseparable brothers; yet, he shouldn’t let anyone know they were more than brothers until he had more power in his hands. He had no doubt that if his mother were to know the true nature of their relationship; Jon would be casted out of Winterfell even without his father’s approval.

The relationship between Jon and his mother troubled him. His mother hated Jon; he was the permanent reminder of her husband’s unfaithfulness. In spite of that, Robb couldn’t really understand it completely. If anything, it wasn’t Jon’s fault, it was father’s.

Furthermore, it was common for Lords to seek other beds than their marital beds. The fact that his father had only done so in the middle of a war, when he had just briefly met his wife (who should’ve been his brother’s), after the death of his father and brother was understandable. Robb might be angry with his father for dishonouring his mother, had it not been for his father’s faithfulness afterwards. His father was a dedicated husband, who had even endangered the anger of the North by building a Sept right in the middle of the heart of Winterfell!

He supposed it wasn’t rational. His mother had grown to love his father deeply, he knew. He only had to see them look at each other. Yet, a part of him would be angry with his mother when he saw the way his beloved flinched under her glare. Her temper with Jon was even shorter since he had begun to grow comelier; the rumours of the great beauty that must’ve birthed him vexed his mother. Especially since it had always been assumed Jon’s mother hadn’t been of noble birth, but whispers of Lady Ashara’s name had increased as people looked at Jon’s beautiful mauve eyes and exotic features.

He finished tying his leather boots and left his cell, to meet his mother and the steward. In his way, he smiled politely to a serving girl who brightened under his blue eyes. Afterwards, he congratulated another maid on the birth of her third son. He was surprised when the girl thanked him personally for the job in Winterfell and the gift of a woollen blanket for her baby. He masked it quickly, knowing that it was probably Jon’s gift.

His brother liked to give gifts to the smallfolk if they had difficulties with something and he always said that the gift was from Robb. The Heir of Winterfell smiled his beloved had a heart of gold and always tried to help those less fortunate. He usually tried to hide his charity as a gift for something, like in this case, the birth of a child. He also liked to say it was from Robb to increase his popularity amongst the smallfolk.

Thanks to his brother’s dedication and his own small contributions, Robb was already well loved by the smallfolk. They knew that if they spoke with Jon Snow, he would speak with the Heir of Winterfell who would seek a job for them and give them a useful gift if they merited it.

Jon had also tried to involve Sansa in some charities, like the orphanage for the children who had lost their parents in Greyjoy’s rebellion. His sister had been reluctant at first. Even though, abstractly she loved the idea of being a good and generous lady. It had been hard for her to see the conditions in which the poorer smallfolk lived.

Sansa had always lived in a fantasy world where everybody was handsome lords and beautiful ladies. He thought it was probably why Jon had been so keen to involve Sansa. Their sister was only nine years old, but there were already whispers about who she would marry.

His lover had admitted to Robb that although there were many whispers of her beauty, there were also whispers of her ingenuity, of how she tried to be a good “southern” lady. There were whispers about how she wouldn’t be fit to be a northern lady.

Jon had made sure to answer those whispers with exclamations of her beauty and good heart. He always made sure to comment how wisdom was obtained as you grew, while a kind disposition and beauty were nature’s gifts. Besides, he would say, Lady Stark was also doubted and yet she managed to be a good northern lady, imagine how Sansa will be with Stark blood coursing through her veins!

Either way, his beloved had wanted to make sure that Sansa did start to realise that the world wasn’t always a song, therefore the charities. Jon had chosen well since helping charities was a perfectly ladylike pursuit. Robb had already seen some change in Sansa, although she still loved songs and beauty, she knew they weren’t reality and with her good heart, she did her best to help in the orphanage.

Her reputation had also improved. The smallfolk whispered that she was a true, beautiful lady with a heart of gold and the noble born commented on her dedication to this task. She seemed less childish in their eyes because of it.

He smiled; his lover did his best to make them well loved by their people. It wasn’t a hard task, Jon had said, since they were Starks and the Starks had ruled the North for eight thousand years. However, his brother made sure that they weren’t simply respected, but truly loved.

He knew that there was some resentment for the southern ambitions of his grandfather that, in the eyes of some, had caused his aunt’s kidnapping and the North’s involvement in Robert’s Rebellion and the Greyjoy’s Rebellion. His father had always tried to show he didn’t have those same ambitions, not getting involved with the southern politics even having the advantage of the king as his best friend. Jon was making sure to smooth over any doubts of Robb’s intentions and make him loved and trusted by the people.

To his surprise, when he entered the cell expecting his mother and the steward, his father was also in the room. He had rarely seen his father pouring over the accounts with his mother and the steward, even though he knew he must have since he gave clear and wise instructions on the matter.

“Good morn, Mother, Father, Steward Poole”, he greeted politely.

His father rose his grey eyes from the accounts he had been inversed in, “Good morn, son, your mother and Steward Poole have told me of your involvement in the last negotiations, which was commendable from what I understand”

Robb tried not to blush at his father’s praise, “Thank you, Father”, he answered quietly.

“I believe now, Robb, that you’re ready to do your first trip in the North”, stated his Father, a small proud smile stretching his thin lips.

“I- thank you, Father!” Robb exclaimed in excitement.

“It shall be like your first proposal: you’ll go to Sea Dragon Point, visiting Deepwood Motte and Bear Island. You shall stay in House Forrester, Woods, Branch and Bole as well as House Glover and Mormont. I have already spoken to all the houses and they are ready for your arrival. You shall depart in a week’s time”, said his Father.

“Thank you, Father, truly”, he thanked him again sincerely.

His Father looked very proud of him, “Now go and tell Jon, I know that’s what you wish to do”, he answered fondly.

 


	8. Jon IV

Jon smiled happily, excitement coursing through his entire body. He felt the urge to jump and laugh out loud. He restrained himself, since he didn’t want to look like a child. However, he couldn’t help but share broad smiles with Robb. He couldn’t believe that, for the first time in his life –that he remembered-, he was leaving Winterfell.

As he had expected, Father had appreciated Robb’s hard work and had rewarded him by letting him do a small trip to Sea Dragon Point. And Robb had insisted that he wanted to be accompanied by Jon. He knew Lady Stark had been opposed, as she didn’t want the Lords of the North to get to know Jon. When there were visitors, she usually made him sit in the lower tables. Despite her opposition, Father had agreed and had praised their close relationship, looking nostalgic. Jon thought that Father had been thinking of his dead brother, Brandon. It must be hard to live in the castle meant for his brother, when his brother and sister were dead and his remaining brother risked his life on a daily basis in the Wall.

Jon couldn’t imagine the world without Robb. The mere thought made a chill of fear course through his body. The idea of knowing he wouldn’t see his sibling ever again. He knew it wasn’t just because it was his lover and brother; the thought of any harm coming onto Sansa, Arya or Brandon filled him with dread. He felt that as their older brother he was responsible for their safety and health.

He was happy that he had grown closer to Sansa. Of all his siblings, she had been the only one who had remained more distant due to her close relationship with her mother.  He had been hesitant to approach her, yet he thought it was necessary. Sansa was too naïve and too southern.

He believed that she would have probably grown out of it naturally, but her Septa and her mother even seemed to encourage it. He had feared that Sansa would grow believing the entire world worked just like a song. Even if his sister married the perfect lord and moved to the perfect household, with that worldview she would still have problems. So Jon had decided to try to make her realise the work didn’t work that way, while protecting her innocence and not traumatising her.

He wished he could have waited a bit more, yet he was too afraid that if he waited a couple of years, Sansa wouldn’t really take him seriously. Her mother spoke in too disparaging terms of him to be taken seriously when Sansa matured; already he had seen her start to distance herself.

It had been easy to speak of the orphanage and all those poor little children and wouldn’t it be perfect if Sansa could help him bring some new woollen blankets? His sister wanted to be the perfect lady and charity was a very ladylike endeavour, so she had agreed immediately. Jon had known her agreement to come to the orphanage would be the easiest part.

The difficult part would be to control her reaction to the orphanage. If Sansa had seen the true conditions, she would’ve been horrified but also disgusted with the people there. Jon had always tried to provide for the children of the orphanage, yet before Sansa’s visit he had prepared them more. With his allowance and Robb’s he had used the ruined old furniture as fuel for the chimney and replaced it with sturdier furniture. The day before he brought his half-sister, he had taken the children to an excursion to one of the natural hot springs near Winterfell, so the children would be clean.

When Sansa had gone to the orphanage, she had never seen people live in such conditions. However, they weren’t truly terrible conditions. The children were clean, fed and warm. It had just made Sansa realise that not all people’s lives were so simple or easy, that life was not a song for everyone. His sister had a good heart, so after that she had taken to accompanying him in his trips to the orphanage.

Although she didn’t do much, mostly she read to the little ones stories or sang songs, as well as she knitting  some scarves and gloves; Jon had seen the change in her. She still loved songs and beauty, but she knew that wasn’t reality. She just tried to make the world a little more beautiful by helping the people around her. Even her attitude with Arya had improved if only a little!

He smiled. He had been afraid that with Robb and him away, the smallfolk would feel abandoned by the Starks. But now Sansa went once a week to the orphanage, therefore they would continue to see a member of the Stark family taking care of them. It was a relief. The Starks long history in the North as fair rulers made their people extremely loyal, but it was always good to show that the Starks returned that loyalty and really cared for their people.

Robb’s left leg brushed his right leg as Robb’s fleabitten grey horse passed near his. Both their horses were used to each other so neither startled despite the proximity. When Jon raised his mauve eyes, he found Robb smiling at him cheekily, his Tully blue eyes merry.

“Excited?” asked Robb with a grin.

“Of course!” he answered enthusiastically.

His brother laughed delightedly, his Adam’s apple moving, “We’re not even that far from Winterfell, we’ve been here before!”

“It’s not the same, I can’t believe we’re going to see Sea Dragon Point and I can’t wait to see Bear Island! Do you think it will be very different from Winterfell? I mean it’s an island, so of course it’ll be different, but I don’t know how exactly. I can’t wait to see the sea for the first time”, he said, anticipation colouring his voice.

His lover nodded, “I can’t wait either, seeing the sea will definitely be incredible”

“Just hope you don’t get sea sick!” exclaimed teasingly one of the guards that was riding the closest to them.

Robb laughed loudly, “I’m a Stark through and through, but I still have some Tully blood in me! I won’t get sea sick”

The guards around them laughed. They were a small entourage, only eight guards and Robb and Jon. There hadn’t been any wildling attacks lately so it was deemed safe to have a small entourage. They would also move faster, which would relief Lady Catelyn’s worry for her firstborn son. Not even the mention of Robb’s Tully blood dampened Jon’s excitement.

“Unlike Braddock! In Greyjoy’s Rebellion he puked the entire trip!” roared Rody, a tried warrior with grey in his temples and a wicked scar going through his collar bone, a gift from an Ironborn.

That quip prompted the laughter of the entire company. It was hard to imagine stoic warrior Braddock vomiting violently just because of being in a ship. But if Rody said it, it was most definitely true. The two men were companions during Greyjoy’s Rebellion and their closeness lasted to this day.

“Shut up, Rody!” retorted Braddock, his pale cheeks had acquired a most entertaining red tint, “The weather was terrible! There were waves as tall as the Godswood! You had better hope that the weather is milder for your first trip green boys!” exclaimed the man, glaring at the younger guards who were still laughing.

Despite themselves, the boys untried by the sea exchanged nervous glances. Everyone knew that the sea was a fanciful mistress: she could grant you an easy trip or throw your ship against the rocks with no warning. The trip by the sea would be short, since Bear Island was close to the coast, though so it was unlikely that the weather would change suddenly enough to put them in jeopardy.

“I am sure in this summertime, the waves will be milder than a mother rocking her babe to sleep”, said Barth, smiling comfortingly to the younger men.

Jon smiled back. Barth had fought in both Robert’s Rebellion and Greyjoy’s Rebellion, being only a few years older than Lord Stark. Despite having fought in two wars and being the proud bearer of fourteen visible scars, he was a man of a gentle character. It was part of what made him dangerous when they practiced with him in the courtyard, unlike the younger men, he didn’t let the fight lead him, he lead the fight.

He definitely admired Barth’s ability at the sword, even though their fighting styles were rather different. Barth was of the stocky definition of the North, which led to the use of strength and endurance, while Jon was lither, which lent to greater speed and agility. However, Jon was still trying to learn the ability to steer the fight to how he wanted it to go. It was a slow learning; his reflexes were usually faster than his mind, so it was hard work to educate his body again.

“Let’s hope we don’t fall asleep then!” exclaimed young Codin, his deep voice teasing, “We would fall to sleep and wake to beautiful, treacherous mermaids”

Codin was only five years older than Robb or Jon, the closest in age of the entire guard of Winterfell. Of course the master at arms of Winterfell, Rodrik Cassel, trained younger boys to be guards. However, only Codin had passed the exam and thus was the youngest guard. He was a tall man of little musculature, like most men in the North, he would probably grow into it as he grew older.

“With a lovely mermaid of hair like fire and eyes like emeralds, I would go to my death happily”, retorted playfully Anron, an experienced guard of blond hair so pale, it almost looked white.

Randar guffawed, “As though any mermaid would choose you as their victim!”

That was answered with an indignant, “And why would they not choose me?”

The rest of the entourage watched the following squabble with great amusement. Randar and Anron had the custom of bickering like an old married couple, their disputes were most entertaining. Jon smiled as he met Robb’s eyes, yes, he definitely would enjoy this trip however short it may be.


	9. Robb V

# 

Robb smirked, his blue eyes fixed on his beautiful brother. Jon was distracted looking around for fuel wood for their campfire. His lovely brother was completely oblivious to his intentions; he had not even questioned going so far from the group simply to gather firewood. He approached his lover with predatory grace. Being on a trip with eight guards left little time for intimacy, he had spent seven nights without touching his brother.

It had been hard, especially when they had bathed in a stream only yesterday. His Jon had looked beautiful; his lips flushed from the cold, his nipples perked under his wet camisole that stuck to his skin, his lovely black hair curlier than ever. Robb had wanted nothing more than to grab his dark locks and pull his brother into a passionate kiss.

The memory of Jon breathless on the table, his cock wet from Robb’s mouth, and his mauve eyes still dazed from pleasure and looking at him in awe still tormented him. He wanted nothing more than to recreate that image. However, he hadn’t found the opportunity in Winterfell in the days preparing for the trip and had had even less of a chance during the actual trip!

But finally, they were alone. Robb had conveniently volunteered to gather some wood with Jon to make a fire for the night. Being in the middle of the Wolfswood, they would have little difficulty in finding the needed dry wood and they also were hidden from the guards by the numerous trees. It was the perfect opportunity.

He grabbed his lover’s arm and pushed him towards one of the thick trees of the Wolfswood, until his back was against the wide trunk. His brother gasped in surprise and latched onto his other arm to avoid falling. Robb stepped closer until their bodies were but a few inches a part. He inhaled slowly, he loved the scent of pure Jon; it was fresh and masculine.

He inclined his head slowly, until their lips brushed softly. His comely brother gave a small, breathless whimper. Robb couldn’t hep but to smirk before he swooped in to claim his lover’s lips. Jon’s mouth was as lovely as always; his lips were soft and tender, his mouth tasted faintly of the mint leaves he had eaten a few hours before. His brother had always loved the mint that they grew on the glasshouses, Robb had many fond memories of sneaking inside to steal a few leaves and share his bounty with his brother.

He could feel his brother’s hands clutching his arm and his shoulder tightly. Their torsos were almost touching. He knew that if he stepped back his lover would slide down to the floor; he was relying entirely on Robb to maintain them upright. His brother had the tendency to _melt_ under his hands, which he found incredibly arousing.

Robb felt intoxicated by his lover’s proximity. He loved the taste of his mouth, the touch of his lips; being so close they shared body heat. He loved the quiet moans and helpless whimpers his brother gave when he bit his lower lip teasingly or used his nails to caress the skin under his brother’s camisole.

He rested his hands on his brother’s hips and pulled him towards him. He spread his feet and laid his knees against the tree. His brother was trapped between his legs and their cocks were now aligned. He felt incredibly mischievous as he grounded down. The touch was magic. Pure pleasure sparked through his entire body. He broke off the kiss with his brother to breathe, resting his forehead against his brother’s forehead.

“Robb, Robb”, whispered his lover deliciously, his mauve eyes seemed hazy with pleasure.

The Heir of Winterfell smirked and bit his brother’s jaw, although with little strength so as to not leave marks. For a moment he wished for nothing more than to bite down strongly, to mark his brother as his to the entire North. Yet, he knew it would be foolish since it would put his lover in danger, so he restrained himself with the promise that someday everyone would know that the lovely beauty that was his brother was his.

He licked the thin long neck in front of him and had to place one of his hands on his brother’s mouth to stop the loud moans of his brother. He had no desire to be interrupted by a concerned guard. He loved to have his brother come undone under his hands and mouth.

He gave a bit of a startle as the hilt of the metal swords that they both wore now hit each other and gave a loud pang. However, he tugged the hilt of his sword away and dipped right into his lover’s lovely red mouth again. As he grounded again and again against his Jon’s cock, he knew Jon was moments away from peaking; he himself was close to peaking as well. Seven nights without finding release had made him and Jon more sensitive.

He wished he could prolong the experience and tease his brother for hours. Nonetheless, they would be missed if they didn’t return soon. So he opened his breeches and his brother’s hurriedly and pulled their cocks together. His brother practically screamed against his hand. Robb felt his lips pull into a smile. He rubbed the cocks against each other, unable to properly stroke them single-handed, but it was enough. It only took six rubs before his brother was coming undone, his release splattering his hand and his legs failing him.

He braced his brother against the tree with one hand, while with the other he rubbed his cock fast. He locked eyes with his lover’s mauve eyes, their breaths intermingling. Jon’s expression was completely open and a bit dreamy, still high from reaching his peak. He leant forward and captured the red lips in a bruising kiss before coming with a groan.

He was panting when he broke off the kiss and laid his face against his brother’s long pale neck. He could feel his lover shudder from the sensation. He smiled, Jon’s neck had always been very sensitive; when they were children, Robb would always try to tickle his neck and his brother would try to run away giggling madly. The hand that had been bracing Jon against the tree, shifted to idly caress his pale skin under his camisole.

“Robb”, whispered Jon, smiling softly.

He wanted to stay forever like this, yet taking too long to return to camp would be suspicious. Therefore, he kissed lightly the skin under his face and took a step back. His brother looked beautiful; still his cheeks and lips still flushed, his forehead slightly sweaty and his mauve eyes a bit dazed. He cleaned his hand against one of the trees and reached to tuck his brother inside his breeches before doing the same for himself.

It took a few moments before his brother stepped forward, away from the tree. Robb knew that it took longer for Jon to recover from the mind-blowing peaks they shared, to be honest it made him feel strong and masculine to render his lover so helpless and satisfied.

Silently, they went back to looking for fuel wood, although their hands casually brushed against each other’s when they were able to walk side by side. They hurried since they feared it would darken soon. They had almost gathered all the wood they needed when they heard a low growl. It wasn’t very loud, it was a low and deep sound. Yet, Robb felt a sliver of fear trail down his spine. It was the sound of a large animal.

Slowly, he turned to his left to find a large bear of dark coat. It seemed agitated. They had probably unwittingly wandered into its territory and it wanted to defend it from the intruders. It looked like it would attack them any second now and Robb was still carrying the wood. To get his sword, he would have to drop the wood and grab his sword. It would take him too long. Robb had heard stories of how fast a bear could be.

He was panicking. He had to remain calm. He breathed in slowly, kept the breath deep in his belly for a few beats and then exhaled slowly. The Winterfell’s hunting party had felled a bear three years ago and Robb had been fascinated with the story and had asked his father to repeat it again and again. He remembered that they had injured the lung, the lungs were the biggest targets for archers and it would make the bear unable to run very far.

He wished he could look at his brother to reassure him, he could hear his rapid breathing besides him. But he feared taking his Tully eyes off the large bear. He hoped they could escape or at least scare it away, even though the terrain of the Wolfswood wasn’t particularly easy to run through. Although by the animal’s aggressive body language, he doubted escaping was an option.

There was a moment of total stillness and suddenly the bear stood onto his posterior legs. It was taller than him by far. Robb dropped the wood quickly, it fell with a clutter onto the floor and he thought that he should be careful with not tripping with the woods. The bear roared angrily. He reached for his sword. He jumped to the side to avoid a threatening claw that had tried to bat him away.

He could feel his heart beating wildly against his chest, his fingers grasped the cold hilt of his sword and he finally got his sword out of his scabbard. He saw the bear reaching for Jon, who still didn’t have the sword in his hand and was only able to duck the dangerous claws. The beast was stubborn, though and tried to attack his lover again. His graceful brother danced out of its reach, yet the constant avoidance made it hard for him to brandish his sword.

He felt intense anger at the sight. He wouldn’t let his brother be gored by that creature. He thrust forward his sword, catching the bear on what would be the lower back for a human. He hoped to hit the liver, which meant almost instant death for any animal. However, the target was too small and Robb wasn’t even sure where it was exactly.

“Run, Jon!” he exclaimed, trying to urge his brother to escape and save himself.

The raging animal roared again. Robb’s thrust had only damaged his muscles; at least it bled heavily. Robb was then too slow to avoid the angry paw that the beast threw and he was sent flying against the thick trunk of a tree. His entire back felt like it was burning and he thought he might be bleeding from a head wound. He was disoriented and dizzy for a few seconds.

He heard a loud whistle and realised Jon was riling up the animal to protect him. When he raised his head and look towards the battle. His brother had managed to free his sword and was brandishing it threateningly. The creature was not intimidated and tried to kill his brother once again. His lover took advantage of the wide sweep of the beast’s arm and tried to stab its heart. The bear moved, and his stab ended up in its shoulder.

His lover was trying to pluck his sword from the beast’s shoulder, yet his sword was stuck firmly in the animal’s broad shoulder. His brother wouldn’t die like this; he wouldn’t allow it to happen. This was his Jon. His vision narrowed. Before he understood what he was doing, Robb had stood up and was approaching them in broad strides. He rose his sword in the air, he jumped and _swung._

Jon, who was standing face to face with the bear, was painted in blood. Robb’s swing had sliced the front of the bear’s throat and the blood had rushed out and rained on his brother. They both stepped away from the beast quickly as it fell onto the floor of the forest with a loud thud.

Everything was quiet except for the quick breathing of Jon and Robb. He raised his Tully eyes to meet his lover’s mauve eyes. He approached his drenched in blood brother quickly and claimed his soft lips passionately. They had been close to dying, but they had survived.

He broke off the kiss to breathe and caressed his brother’s bloodied cheek softly. He couldn’t believe he had almost lost his lover. It seemed unreal how close to death they had both been. He heard the noise of the guards rushing towards their position and stepped away from his brother and washed his bloodied lips with his sleeve.

The eight guards burst out of the vegetation. Their expressions were threatening and they held their swords in their arms. It was strange to see how the aggressiveness transformed their expression. Robb had always seen the guards looking congenial or serious, but never threatening. Even young Codin looked menacing.

“Jon!” exclaimed Anron, fear colouring his voice when he saw the blood drenched boy.

“I’m fine, Robb sliced the bear’s throat when I was standing in front of it”, replied his brother, his voice firm.

The guards watched astonished as his lover approached the bear and extricated his sword from the enormous beast’s shoulder. It seemed utter madness that two lads of thirteen name days had managed to kill a bear that had caught them by surprise. It was dangerous to hunt a bear for a party of experienced hunters, for two green boys to kill one when caught unaware… It was beyond impressive, fit for a song to be sung in the entire North.


	10. Jon V

# 

It was a merry feast in Ironrath, the wooden castle of House Forrester. The hall was decorated richly with multiple banners of House Forrester, depicting a white leafless tree with a black sword inside on the black fabric. It was a great feast full of laughter and food. House Forrester was one of the wealthiest Northern Houses, as they controlled the largest ironwood forest in Westeros.

Both Robb and Jon had been seated in the Lord’s table. Robb, as the Heir to the North, was sitting next to Lord Gregor Forrester. Despite being a natural born son, Jon still had a position of honour sitting next to Rodrik Forrester, the Forrester Heir. As the Starks, the Forresters were a prolific family: four brothers and two sisters.

It was amazing how good the food tasted after living off travel rations for a mere week. Every bite seemed to be an explosion of flavour in his mouth and the servants were agile in serving the food. It seemed that as soon as he finished his dish, another servant would come around to offer another dish full of roast for him to try.

He glanced towards his brother Robb. The Heir of Winterfell looked the part, dressed in the colours of his House and with more mature expressions. His brother was speaking calmly with their host. He smiled; Gregor Forrester had been very welcoming and didn’t treat his brother as a child. Mayhaps the man didn’t treat them like adults, yet it was clear that in the Lord’s mind they were no children.

Rodrik Forrester was also a kind young man, he was only a few years older than Robb and Jon and he was clearly excited to meet them both. In fact, the entire keep seemed extremely happy to have Starks within their halls. The Starks’ visit was clearly an honour, after all, and a lot of these people would never have seen a Stark otherwise, since only the Lords were important enough to be invited to Winterfell.

Suddenly, the main singer stopped his song and stood on a table. He was a Southern young man of blond hair and brown eyes that enjoyed the drink almost too much. He had a good voice, though, and knew all the good songs of the North. Jon would try to speak tomorrow with him, since singers were almost always travellers and he wished to know more about other places.

 “This is the song of the two wolf cubs that defeated a bear!” announced suddenly the tipsy singer, with a jar of beer on his hand making a gesture towards the enormous fur on one of the walls.

Jon felt his face grow heated. The guards had skinned the bear and when they had arrived at Ironrath they had told the story while waving the massive fur around. The Forresters had been so impressed at the tale of two green boys killing a bear on their own with no injury that they had insisted on hanging the fur on the wall of the hall. He peeked at his brother, whose cheeks were also tinted pink but had a good-natured smile on his handsome face.

The entire hall fell quiet or as quiet as a hall full of tipsy northerners could be. They were expectant on hearing a new song. There were rarely new songs, but almost the entire hall knew that this new song would soon be heard across the keeps of the entire North. Despite their stoic nature, Jon had no doubt that Northerners would be extremely proud that the Heir to the North had felled a bear with only thirteen namedays.

It would certainly make Robb celebrated across the North. Although Jon had made sure his sibling was popular in the Wintertown and Winterfell, he hadn’t had the kind of reach to increase his fame across the North. Northerners didn’t tend to travel all that much due to the dangerous conditions. The snow and cold that was so innocent every day, wasn’t as innocent when travelling. Therefore it would have been hard to spread tales of Robb’s generous nature.

It had been one of the reasons Jon had insisted on travelling across the North. As their future liege, Robb needed to show to the North that he was a northerner and a Stark of Winterfell. This new tale of his bravery and courage would definitely be spread from the Neck to the Wall.

He listened to the song carefully, making sure that the wording wouldn’t have any negative connotations towards his brother. The song highlighted their youth, but he supposed that that would make it seem even better. It was a catchy song, good for simple dancing. He had no doubt that it would become a favourite and be in great demand. He wondered if it would be heard even in the South, the South didn’t care that much for the Starks as they stayed in the North yet it was an easy tune and it was good for dancing.

By the end of the song as the applauses and the cheers ended, he was pleased that his brother was a glowing hero in the song while he was the helpful aid. He knew Northerners weren’t as wary of bastards as their Southron counterparts, but it was good that the song clearly depicted a loyal brother helping the Heir to the North and risking his own life for it.

He had no intention of ever parting with his brother and he was glad that the song showed just how loyal he was to his brother. He didn’t want to make the North think he followed Robb around because he wanted to steal his inheritance. The song made them seem as a team. Robb was the clear leader while Jon was the follower, but that was to be expected and it was best for their reputations. It was Robb who would be their liege lord in the future.

Robb’s first appearance in a song and he was the protagonist and in such good light! He smirked slightly as he sipped his watered down red wine and thought of the “Floppy Fish” song. That song was a guilty pleasure of his. He couldn’t help but try to hide a smirk every time he heard it and try not to glance towards Catelyn Tully.

Lady Stark was his beloved mother’s as well as his siblings’, so he really tried to feel no resentment towards her. However, it was hard not to, when he heard the Lady disparage his character in front of him to his father and siblings. He might be a bastard but his loyalty was to his family. He did his best to ignore it, though, as he knew that Robb got even more upset than him in those occasions. He had had to pinch him or stamp on his foot quite a few times, to stop his furious brother from back talking to his mother.

Still, Jon would take his guilty pleasures from where he could and it was so pleasing to see Lady Stark’s lips thin as she listened to a song referring to her brother’s manhood. It was extremely challenging not to laugh out loud or smirk as the singer sang those songs in Winterfell’s hall.

Another song started and couples started to move to dance. Robb, always courteous, immediately moved towards their host’s daughter Mira Forrester to ask her for a dance. Similarly, Jon asked the younger daughter, Talia. Jon wasn’t particularly fond of dancing; yet he knew it was expected and the difference in ages between the two would make it clear that he didn’t have any other intentions.

After a few songs, Jon sat down again, talking and laughing with the Forrester brothers. Rodrik was the responsible Heir, while Asher was very outgoing and seemed a bit rebellious. Asher’s comments on going to whore houses and drinking, reminded him of Theon. Although the Forrester seemed of better character. Ethan Forrester seemed fond of music; Jon made him promise to give him a small concert. Apparently, Ethan and his twin sister Talia gave small concerts together with Ethan playing the flute and Talia singing.

Whereas Jon could sit down soon, Robb had to be more social and he spent a couple of hours dancing with all the ladies. He was in demand as a dancing partner, being the Heir to the North and the hero of the hour. Even though he had a good time talking with the Forrester and he was enjoying their easy acceptance of the bastard Stark, Jon was itching to go to bed with Robb. His brother seemed to share his thoughts, as he would smirk at him every time their eyes met.

Finally, the feast in their honour winded down, allowing the two brothers to retire. Jon had barely made it through the door of his brother’s room, before Robb jumped him. His lover pushed his against the wall, his lips easily finding Jon’s parted mouth. His brother tasted like the watered down wine and he felt drunk just feeling his beloved’s body against his.

“Jon, my Jon”, whispered his brother against ear breathlessly as he grinded against him.

He ached for his brother. His lover hadn’t been touched him since the bear incident and even then it had been a quick fix. He wanted nothing more than to luxuriate in the feeling of his lover against him. Even then, the feeling of his brother’s hands on him and their cocks rubbing against each other was too much.

It didn’t take much for Jon to succumb to pleasure and come with a small cry, “Robb, Robb!”

When he opened his mauve eyes, his lover was watching him intently. He blushed darkly; he knew his brother loved to watch him reach his peek. The pleasure overwhelmed Jon more easily than his brother and his lover always seemed intent on overwhelming him first. It made Jon want to give pleasure to his brother just for the sake of pleasure.

He met his Robb’s feverish Tully eyes, feeling his cheeks flush darkly, “I want- I want to give you the same you did to me that day…”

His brother didn’t need him to be more specific, his pupils dilated at the memory and his hands went to Jon’s shoulders to push on to his knees. Jon felt heated and blushing as he slid down to his knees. He felt clumsy as his fingers took several tried to undo the laces of his brother’s breeches. He could hear his lover’s excited panting from above him. He hoped he could make him feel half as good as his brother had made him feel that day.

He pulled Robb’s manhood from his breeches. It was hard and pink in his hands. It had grown in the last months and it was thicker and longer than Jon’s own. He rubbed it tentatively. He usually climaxed first and was too far-gone to help his lover reach climax. He was rewarded with a soft moan from his lover.

Hesitantly, he opened his mouth and his tongue darted to lick the cock. He grimaced quickly. The taste wasn’t the most appealing, although the loud groan from Robb was incredibly arousing. He leant forward again and gave a longer lick to the entirety of the long manhood. His own cock twitched at his brother’s moan.

He gave several kittenish licks until one of his brother’s hands buried in his dark hair, “Put it in your mouth, Jon”

Jon licked his lips and put the head of the manhood on his mouth, slowly he slid down further. He had to stop when he felt he would gag. His lover’s hips started to move, Robb was carefully sliding forward and back, breaching Jon’s mouth and then going back. His cock ached between his legs and his mauve eyes were watering.

Robb’s hand tightened in his hair, his voice was low and rough as he said, “Tighten your lips, that’s it Jon, good boy”

It was breathtaking to be on his knees, giving so much pleasure to his brother. The multiple sensations felt like too much. He felt like he was floating. It was similar to how he had felt that day when his brother had taken him apart with his mouth. His brother bucked into his mouth until he came and as Jon swallowed he felt strangely dreamy and happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the Dom/Sub undertones are more evident in this chapter. I tried to make it seem like Jon is kind of in subspace but I don't know if it was that successful since I've never written/experienced it before.


	11. Robb VI

Robb stared at the sea. He had never seen anything like it. He couldn’t even find the right words to describe it. It was grey and green and blue and full of powerful waves. It was breathtakingly beautiful. He glanced at his lover who was also staring at the sea with astonishment written on his comely face. He returned his Tully eyes to the sea, it was humbling to see such a vast, incredible water mass. They had arrived to Deepwood Motte by night-time, so he had only heard the powerful sounds of the sea. The sight was even more impressing.

“It is amazing”, he said to Lord Galbart Glover. He hoped his awe didn’t sound childish, but appropriate and flattering to the Lord of Deepwood Motte.

“That it is, the sea is an incredible sight, no matter how many times you see it”, answered Lord Glover with a proud smile on his face as he watched the sea.

He nodded. He was excited about his first trip to the sea. This morn, the guards, Jon and he would take a ship to Bear Island to meet House Mormont. Through his trip he had already met House Forrester, House Woods and House Branch. He had stayed in Deepwood Motte for only a night, but when they returned from Bear Island tomorrow, they would stay a couple of days more. After that, they would head back to Winterfell and they would stop at the keep of House Bole.

He had been warmly received at every single keep he had gone so far and had left a favourable impression behind. The song of the two wolf cubs was already very popular, it seemed, and he had displayed the bear fur at every keep he had visited. Jon had told him that the whispers of him being too southern were fading completely. There was great pride in northerners’ voices as they spoke of the Heir to the North, now.

“Thank you for your great hospitality, Lord Glover”, Robb thanked him, with a warm smile on his face.

“Thank you for the honour of your visit, Lord Stark, I shall see you tomorrow”, responded Lord Glover, his aged face friendly.

After the proper farewell to House Glover, Robb, Jon and the small garrison of guards took a small ship to Bear Island. The sensation of being on a ship was odd. The gentle swaying of the floor beneath his feet was incredibly strange, even though Robb had managed to find the way to compensate for the movement easily, unlike his lover that still needed to clutch the walls of the ship. He hid an amused smile from his brother. At least Jon wasn’t nauseous, Braddock, one of the guards, had a distinctively green tint to his face.

Luckily for those seasick, the trip to Bear Island was short and they quickly reached the small port of the island. The Winterfell men stepped onto the floor of Bear Island with small sighs of relief, Robb noted amusedly. Although his brother still swayed in the real ground, apparently his body was still trying to compensate for the ship’s rocking.

“I didn’t know you liked to dance so much, Jon”, he teased his lover good-naturedly as he stepped out of the ship easily, giving a smile to the Mormont family that was waiting for them a few steps away.

His beautiful half-brother gave him a playful glare and grabbed his arm when he was within reach, “And just for that, you’re now my official cane. My, what a promotion: from Heir of Winterfell to cane!”

Robb laughed agreeably, the prospect of having an excuse to touch his lover openly in public was quite appealing, “Why, I would be delighted to!”

His brother smirked and opened his mouth to reply, but his smile faded and fear appeared in his mauve eyes in a matter of seconds. At the change of expression, Robb’s first instinct was for his hand to clutch the handle of his sword and to turn to the source of danger.

It happened very quickly. There had been a small beat of uneasy silence and then, suddenly, dozens of people had descended upon them. The eight guards had efficiently formed a formation around Robb and Jon. Robb could hear his won heart beating wildly against his chest. He inhaled deeply and centred himself. He was the Heir of Winterfell; he would face this attack as a Stark. It seemed like time slowed down, even his heart beat.

On the first beat of his heart, all Robb saw of their attackers was that of men with brandishing steel and running towards them from everywhere. On the second beat, he realised that their attackers were wildlings, dressed in furs and brandishing swords and long knives and spears. He brandished his own sword and didn’t need to look to know his Jon was following his example. On the third beat, he took in that although their attacker outnumbered them, they had no discipline and there were even women amongst them. On the fourth beat, the wildlings and the Northmen finally clashed.

It was an explosion of sound: the steel crashing against steel, the yelling and the swearing. His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, as the guards fought against the wildlings. He felt reassured at least, that his brother and lover was by his side. It didn’t take long for one of the wildlings to slip pass the guards, who were overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the wildlings.

The wildling was a man old enough to be Robb’s father, of black hair and brown eyes. When the wildling tried to slit Robb’s throat in a grand gesture of his long sword, that left his vulnerable belly open, probably believing he was no more than a green boy. There was disbelief in his brown eyes when Robb stabbed him in the belly and then pushed him of his sword to meet another wildling.

The next wildling was a woman, brown-haired young and not particularly pretty or ugly. Robb didn’t even have time to hesitate at the idea of striking a woman. Another wildling was already rushing towards him, after killing Codin, the youngest of their guards. He stabbed her at her side and forced himself not to watch as she crumbled in front of him.

When Codin’s killer reached him, he was ready. It took longer to dispatch this one. The man in front of him was clearly skilled with the sword, although his style wasn’t one Robb recognized. He hadn’t been properly trained and he left some openings, but he was fast and strong. Robb knew that if he had faced this man before changing to steel in the courtyard, he would be dead already. The Stark took a blow to the chest, it wasn’t an open wound, but a bruise that would surely purple. However, he managed to take down the wildling.

Similarly, he continued to take down the wildling after and the next and the next. He no longer had time to recognise the colour of their eyes or their faces, he only had time to think of how strong they were, how tall, what vulnerable points they left open for him to strike, whether they were fast…

He knew that his brother was fighting by his side and he absent-mindedly matched his brother, making sure that no one approached his brother from the back, just as his lover did for him. They had trained together in courtyard enough to know how to move around each other when they were fighting. The closest thing they had trained like this was when Jon had insisted he wanted to do melee training, he had thought it odd as his lover considered Southron tourneys a waste of time. But now he was thanking the Old Gods for Jon’s foresight.

“Jon, to your right!” he shouted as he saw a wildling kill Anron, another of their guards, and run towards his lover.

His brother didn’t answer, but positioned himself to greet his attacker with steel. Robb could only give a quick glance to his beautiful lover to make sure he wasn’t injured, Jon had a long scratch from his right shoulder to his left pectoral, but it seemed shallow. His lover was a more accomplished swordsman than him, so he hoped he would be alright. He turned around and moved to cover his lover’s back again as he crashed swords with another wildling. He was vaguely thankful to not have encountered any wildling with a lance spear yet, since he was unused to fighting people with spears outside of jousting.

At least it seemed that the skirmish’ end was rapidly approaching, in honour of the Heir of Winterfell’s arrival, there had been more Bear Island guards in the port than usual. The guards were used to skirmishes of this manner and had quickly evened the numbers with the wildlings and were now decimating their enemy. The wildlings were sensing their defeat and were fighting with renewed frenzy.

“Robb, careful, to your left!” he heard his lover yell in desperation.

As he fought the robust wildling with a short sword, he saw that another wildling was coming at him with a spear as thought summoned by his optimistic thought. The wildling positioned himself to throw the spear at him. It dawned on him quickly that he wouldn’t be capable of dispatching the wildling he was fighting before the spear thrown by the wildling reached him and he couldn’t move out of range of the spear. So he gritted his teeth, made sure the spear would only reach non-vital places of his body and prepared to fight the rest of the battle in pain.

The spear never touched him. He heard a familiar grunt of pain and when he glanced to his left, he realised with horror that his lover had a spear sticking out of his hip. His beautiful Jon was kneeling on the ground, his sword fallen next to him as his elegant hands clutched the spear piercing his hip. Robb didn’t know how to describe what happened next, he wasn’t even sure of what happened next himself.

It was like a calm balm had spread across his body while at the same time as he saw red.  He killed the wildling that had been giving him so much trouble with only two strokes of his sword and slit the throat of the next one in one single movement, even before giving the wildling an opportunity to engage him. When another wildling approached his brother, he threw one the fallen wildling’s short swords as though it were a knife and it found its way to the wildling’s belly, even though knife throwing wasn’t Robb’s forte. And yet, it had felt natural and easy, just as it was easy to spot the openings of his next attacker and stab him on the shoulder.

He remained in that state of mind, killing wildling after wildling, not leaving his brother’s side, until there were no more wildlings. Then, he kept his sword in hand, but knelt behind his brother, supporting his lover’s back as Jon was still kneeling and his lover was trembling.

“Everything is going to be alright, Jon, you’ll see”, he whispered to his beautiful lover, the hand not brandishing his sword, hugging his brother against him.

“Robb”, whispered Jon, fear in his voice, “Robb, it’s bleeding so much”

He hushed him gently and pressed an affectionate kiss to the side of his brother’s temple, signalling to one of the guards to summon a healer, “A Maester is coming, you’ll be just fine, the spear hasn’t touched any organs and it’s not too deep”

“I love you, Robb”, whispered his brother lovingly.

The Heir of Winterfell swallowed thickly, “I love you too, Jon, worry not, here comes the Maester”

Indeed, a man wearing the clothes of a Maester was approaching them rapidly. Robb stayed in the same position, supporting his brother’s weight, when the Maester took out the spear. He remained supporting his brother when his Jon fainted at the pain and when the Maester began stitching him up. He walked besides the cart as his lover was brought to the keep by cart. And he barely greeted the Mormonts, wishing to be by his brother’s side in his chamber, even though he was told that Jon was in no danger of death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! A bit more of action in this chapter!I wanted Robb and Jon to see a bit of more of battle before the Game of Thrones started, so I thought a skirmish with the wildlings in Bear Island was one of the likeliest battles. Plus I wanted to show everyone that Jon, the bastard, is more than willing to sacrifice his life for his brother, the Heir.


	12. Jon VI

# 

When he woke up, his eyelids felt heavy and he felt strangely slow as though he had drunk too much wine. His head felt light and the room seemed to be swaying, not unlike the rocking of the boat that had taken them to Bear Island. There was a faint pang of pain coming from his hip. Before he could even wonder where he was, his brother Robb approached him with a cup of water that his lover placed gently upon his lips.

“Drink some water, Jon”, ordered his brother sternly, his forehead was furrowed with concern.

The bastard obeyed, keeping his mauve eyes on his brother. His handsome lover seemed tired and there were bags under his Tully eyes from lack of sleep. There were lines of worry on his young face. After drinking his fill, Snow smiled reassuringly to his lover, raising his hand to caress his handsome face. His brother sighed and kissed his palm gently.

“Never do that again, you know not how frightened I was when I saw you on the ground with a spear piercing you”, ordered Robb tersely.

“Well, I couldn’t very well allow the spear to reach you and hope for the best, could I? You would have died, while I could make sure it didn’t hit any vulnerable spots in my body”, replied Jon, with a small smile.

Robb made a sound of frustration, “You’re not allowed to put yourself at risk, even for me, Jon”

“What sort of lover or brother would I be, then?” protested Jon, “I couldn’t let you get hurt either!”

His brother kissed his lips sweetly, “One that doesn’t make me die of worry”

“That spear would have killed you while it only injured me”, stated Jon firmly, “I made the right choice”

“Stubborn Snow”, grumbled his lover, but there was fondness in his voice as his worry faded.

Jon gave a small, cheeky smile, “You wouldn’t love if I wasn’t”

“I would always love you, Jon”, said abruptly serious Robb.

The intensity of his brother’s statement left him speechless, an opportunity that his lover used to kiss him deeply. He closed his mauve eyes and moaned against his brother’s mouth. His hand taking hold of Robb’s dark reddish brown hair, it was so dark that it only gleamed red under sunlight or the flickering light of candles. He could almost feel his lover’s reluctance as he finally stepped away from the kiss. Robb watched him, his eyes almost black from his expanded pupil. Jon knew his cheeks were blushed and his eyes lightened by desire.

“What happened for the wildlings to attack? I thought that there had been few attacks in the last years… and one of that magnitude”, he trailed off, waiting for Robb to answer.

He wondered whether the wildlings had learnt that the Heir of the North would be in Bear Island and had thus attacked. He hoped not as he had been the one to encourage his lover to travel to see the keeps of his people. He was glad that his lover was all right, but he had seen three of their guard fall. He would never forgive himself if that were the case.

“The Mormonts captured a three wildlings, two girls and a boy. They are little more than children. They have interrogated them but all they tell is this silly little story”, dismissed the Stark Heir, with a wave of hand, annoyance on his handsome face.

“Story? What did they say?” inquired curiously Jon.

“Some nonsense about the Others coming back and that they were going south to avoid them”, said his brother with a roll of his Tully eyes as he sat on the edge of Jon’s bed.

Jon could feel his eyebrows lifting in incredulity, “The Others?”

“The Others”, confirmed his brother, “Next they will tell tales of grumpkins and snarks”

Jon contemplated the ceiling quietly as he thought. He was clearly in the room that was supposed to go to Robb as heir of the North, since the room was rich for the Mormont family. He felt a pang of warmth at the thought of Robb refusing to stay in the room and ordering him brought here.

The wildlings were coming supposedly because of the Others, but then again the captives were children according to Robb. It was entirely possible that the parents had told that to their children to stop their complains of the hard trip. Any way how had the wildlings reached Bear Island? They hadn’t come at the port?

“How did the wildlings arrive that they went unnoticed?” he asked his brother.

“The Mormonts found a three small ships on one of the beaches. Apparently they arrived on that side and came by foot to the port with the intention of taking over a bigger ship”, said Robb, his lips curling in displeasure.

“How long have I been asleep?” Jon inquired next, wonderingly.

“The Maester insisted on keeping you asleep for three days. You’re still to drink the milk of the poppy now, but not so much as to be asleep all the time”, explained Robb, clearly unhappy with the thought of a continually unconscious Jon.

It was likely that his brother had found his unresponsive, asleep self less than reassuring. He tried to imagine Robb being struck by a spear and then sleeping for three days, without the reassurance of talking to him or even seeing his beautiful blue eyes looking at him. He laced his fingers with Robb’s reassuringly; his brother graced him with a small smile in response.

“Why did they want a bigger ship?” he inquired curiously, usually when wildlings went south of the Wall, they didn’t want to go too far away from their home.

His brother sighed of frustration, “The children said that they wanted to go South as far South goes to outrun the Others”

Jon looked at his brother, “What is on your mind Robb?”

The redheaded stood up and paced in the chamber, his agitation was clear in his brusque moves, “I just… It sounds so stupid. The Others? It belongs in one of Old Nan’s stories. It’s absolutely preposterous and crazy”

Jon contemplated his lover quietly, “But?”

The Heir of Winterfell swirled to look at him, anxiety on his handsome face, “But they weren’t lying. They truly believed they were running from the Others. Even the oldest girl who is twelve”

Jon felt his breath catch. Robb wasn’t bad at reading people and wildlings didn’t put much stock in deception. He kept his face free of emotion, knowing that if he spoke again his brother would start to censor himself since even Robb believed it was madness. He idly wondered whether he was still dreaming with the milk of the poppy, the Others were definitely something out of a nightmare.

“I asked them about what the people on their boat said, the other wildlings. They were all terrified, scared out of their minds. They said they even saw a couple of grown ups cry, which is unthinkable in wildling mentality. They said that they had come across an entire village of people dead and their parents had made them run until they had put quite a distance”, Robb dragged a his fingers on his dark red hair, “It’s madness. It’s absolute madness. But people don’t start getting afraid of their lives for nothing. Wildlings had never taken children south of the Wall before. They met with other villages and many people where afraid. Some villages had been abandoned. Apparently there’s a place where they’re gathering together, safety in numbers. But their village wanted to straight up leave”

Jon remained silent for a few moments more before calmly speaking, “So the wildlings are scared and some are trying to flee and others are gathering and they say it’s because of the Others”

Robb sat down at the edge of the bed carefully to not jostle him, “Yes, I just can’t see how it’s possible”

The bastard of Winterfell watched his lover; Robb was in deep concentration, trying to find an explanation to these strange claims. He wished he could be of more help, but honestly the milk of the poppy was making his thought process slow and he could barely make any sense of the entire story. He watched as realisation dawned on his brother’s handsome face.

“It’s a scare tactic”, concluded Robb with surety, “A tribe wants a to expand their territory and they’re using fear so that the other wildlings flee instead of fighting them. They probably paint themselves blue and make horrific displays out of villages they have attacked. It’s even possible that the original story of the Others comes from this same tribe”

“So what are you going to do?” asked Jon.

“I’m going to inform Father as soon as we get to Winterfell. If this tribe is driving all the other tribes south, it means that the North will be attacked soon. We must be prepared for it”, determined Robb, his blue eyes glistening with resolution.

Jon felt a spark of fear at the thought of thousands of wildlings coming into the North, “How long do you think we have to prepare?”

“There’s still at least a couple of years. From what I understand the children’s village was quite north, they were the first to flee. I think they will come in waves. If we up the amount of soldiers and fortify the North, we should be able to handle it.

>>What worries me was what they said about the wildlings gathering, they might create an army. Although it would take them years considering their last failures. Still, we should be ready since in the North it takes so long to gather our banners. We should station soldiers in the borders in preparation; otherwise it would take months for the soldiers of other parts of the North to arrive. The Wall should be strengthened as well. It will be hard to increase the number of black brothers though”, answered Robb, deep in thought.

“At least we have previous warning now”, said Jon in an attempt to reassure his brother.

“In a couple of years we could be in war with the wildlings, Jon. And even then, what if this tribe, the Others, try to cross the Wall? How terrible must they be to inspire such fear?” mused the Heir to the North, with a deep frown.

“The North will never fall”, answered soothingly Jon, trying to calm his brother’s fears.

“And what if Father doesn’t believe me? What if he thinks these are the thoughts of a child?” questioned Robb, his hands tightening into fists.

“Father trusts you”, retorted Jon.

“But what if he doesn’t believe me?” questioned Robb angrily.

“Your reasoning is not mad and he’s cautious. Even if he believes that not many wildlings will flee to the North, he’ll still at least reinforce the Wall and warn the Houses close to the Wall”, responded Jon, “You know this”

His brother deflated and laid down next to Jon carefully to not bother his wound, “You always know what to say to me. Even when you’re still on milk of the poppy”, Robb kissed his brow lovingly.

Despite their serious conversation, Jon felt a small smile stretch his lips, “And don’t you forget it, Stark”

“Never”, responded Robb with surprising vehemence, Jon felt his cheeks blush.


	13. Robb VII

# 

Robb stepped into the yard at Bear Island for the first time. Jon was finally lucid and stable, although he slept more than he would in normal circumstances. The Heir to the North finally felt comfortable leaving his beloved brother resting whilst he trained in the yard. The small skirmish with the wildlings had shown him how important his sword work was. He hoped that he would gain more practice against spears as well and practice more melee fighting.

His Tully blue eyes widened at the astonishing sight. He knew that the women of Bear Island were trained to fight. In fact he had probably seen Lady Maege Mormont fighting at his arrival, but he had been too focused on his own fighting to realise what he was seeing. The yard lent him no illusions though. He didn’t even know why he was so surprised; he had even killed a wildling woman that attacked him.

There were plenty of men training their skills as in any other keep he had visited. However, there were plenty of women as well. The women wore breaches and camisoles and kept their hair in simple styles. He felt his cheeks burn at the sight. He was used to gowns that highlighted busts and tiny waists, therefore the sight of long legs, bottoms and curvy hips were unfamiliar to him. Although songs and men usually spoke of a woman’s bust, Robb had to admit the forbidden sight was appealing.

The women fighting weren’t brutish or ill looking, as fighting women were rumoured to be. They looked like normal northern women: Robb had seen most of them in skirts around the Mormont’s wooden keep and they hadn’t seemed warriors. He wondered whether this concept he had of fighting women had come from his southern mother. If his father and the people of Winterfell had fought alongside the Mormont women, it would be unlikely they would offend them so.

One of the women fell to the ground, dirtying her breaches. He smiled at the thought of how his sister Sansa would react to the sight. His sister tried to be the perfect lady and had quite a few southern values. She appreciated nothing more than dresses and lemon cakes. That was not to say she was shallow, because his sister had a loving heart and visited the orphanage frequently and genuinely suffered for those poor orphans. But this would go against all what Sansa had been taught was proper for a lady.

“I did it!” a woman gave a cry of cheer at hitting one of the targets set for her bow, while her mentor besides her gave a broad smile.

Arya, though, Arya would love this, he thought with a smirk. His little sister had wolf blood running through her veins according to his father, not unlike his legendary aunt Lyanna. He knew his mother prayed that it was only a phase for Arya to be so wild and unlady-like. But he wondered if maybe here was where Arya fit in, as a Northern warrior woman.

He stepped forward, wishing to get a better view of the spars amongst the women to learn more of this rare practice. He paused at the left side; Dacey Mormont, the eldest of Lady Maege Mormont, was fighting against a young man. There was a wide grin on Dacey’s face that was the same Jon had worn on occasion as he was sparring. Sometimes a good fight could be exhilarating.

Dacey’s cheeks were coloured by the exercise and her brow and camisole was damp with sweat. Her breath wasn’t labouring though whilst her opponent was practically panting. For Robb, was hard to believe that the woman was only a few years younger than his mother. Her adversary was good with the sword, but the Heir of Bear Island’s superiority was clear. The Mormont gracefully evaded her opponent and with amazing speed managed to put her blunted training sword against the man’s throat.

Robb nodded to himself. Another misconception he had apparently had was that even the best fighting woman wouldn’t be very good against a trained man. It had seemed as logical in his mind due to woman’s more delicate body and lesser strength. As he watched the women spar against men, it was obvious that he had been wrong. The fighting women of Bear Island had been trained in a manner that favoured their lesser strength and greater agility. It was hard to see Dacey Mormont as “delicate” when she had fought so skilfully.

 “Well done, Weslar, but your shoulders tell me what you’re going to do before doing so. You must start to control them. In the meanwhile, if you encounter an adversary try to use it to confuse them, feint at the crucial time”, instructed Dacey Mormont smiling at her opponent, now her student.

The young man was listening to Dacey Mormont attentively, clearly intending to treasure her advice as though it were gold, “Thank you, Lady Mormont, I shall do my best”

“Call me Dacey, you fool, I’ve seen you grow up from a little babe”, answered good-naturedly the Heir of Bear Island ruffling the young man’s dark brown hair, such familiarity with adults of different genders was unseen in Winterfell, “Now, go practice some more”

“Yes, my lady”, said the young man as he joined a set of guards practicing.

“Lady Mormont”, called Robb as he approached the female warrior.

Dacey raised her brown eyes as she had been dusting her breaches, “Lord Stark, I see you have decided to join us in the yard”

Robb tried not to wince. He knew his behaviour had been less than diplomatic as he had rarely left his brother’s side and hadn’t been particularly charming to his hosts, barely exchanging a few words. He had spoken to the guards about their losses, mourning together, and to sent a raven to Winterfell. But he hadn’t had the time to spend much time with the Mormonts. Other houses would be greatly offended at what they would perceive as a slight. He was lucky that House Mormont was so tolerant. He hoped that the Mormonts didn’t think it to be a slight for Jorah Mormont’s crimes and escape. At least, with Jon’s injury they would have to stay here for a moon so he would be able to make amends.

 “Call me Robb please, my brother is finally well enough to be left alone without fear”, he answered amiably.

“Call me Dacey, then, my lord. It’s hard to be the eldest, you always want to protect your younger siblings”, nodded sagely the eldest Mormont daughter.

Robb could not help but be startled at how easy appeasing Dacey Mormont seemed to be. The Mormonts, like most Northerners, spoke clearly and openly. The female warrior had basically told him that everything was well, despite slighting his hosts by his actions.

Dacey sensed his disconcert and laughed, “If it had been any of my sisters lying wounded on a bed, I assure I wouldn’t have managed to do anything more than growl orders and pace by her side. Why when Lyra fell off a tree and broke her arm, I was much worse. I don’t know who was more crossed with me, my mother or Lyra!”

 “It was Jon that told me that I should do something more fruitful than staring at him as he slept”, he admitted sheepishly.

The Mormont laughed again and clasped his shoulder, commiserating, “The pains of being the eldest”

The Heir to Winterfell laughed along with her, glad that his actions hadn’t alienated a loyal and close House.

“I hoped that you would spar with me. I have never encountered a fighting style such as yours”, Robb asked the older woman.

“Come on, then, green boy! Let’s fight!” exclaimed jolly Lady Mormont already putting herself in position.

Robb stood in position, carefully watching Dacey’s movements, waiting for her attack. He had studied her unfamiliar style while she was sparring with the young guard; he knew that her style was rather aggressive. Following his predictions, the lady quickly sprung to attack him. Her attacks were clever, she tried to destabilize his position with lightening thrusts so that he would create gaps in his defence, which she would use to defeat him.

Just because he knew her tactics didn’t mean he was doing well. Robb was used to fighting against bigger, older male opponents who were heavier and stronger, whereas Dacey was more agile and faster and a smaller target. The closest style to the lady’s was Jon’s and even then it wasn’t so similar. Jon had, after all, learnt from the same teachers as him. As soon as Jon was well enough to move, he would ask him to watch the spars. His lover would love this style, which would fit well with his constitution.

Lady Mormont smiled as him as she thrust her blunted sword to his unprotected stomach, “Dead”

Suddenly there were some scattering applauses around them. Robb looked around and realised that most of the people training in the yard had stopped to watch their match. It was regretful that he had lost in front of so many guards and warriors, people that would possibly follow him into battle in a few years against the wildlings.

However, he was still a green boy compared to Lady Dacey and it was his first time encountering this style. At least he held his own quite well for a while. He still lost, but he achieved a respectful amount of time. The faces around him seemed pleased by his performance. Robb suspected it would have been more displeasing for them if he, Heir or no Heir, had easily dispatched Lady Dacey.

He laughed, showing that he was undaunted by being defeated by a woman, “You must show me some more of your style my lady, it is truly like nothing I’ve ever seen before”

“You did well for one so young, my lord”, replied Dacey merrily, “By the time you leave, you shall be quite skilled against this style. Now I’ll show you around a bit so that you can see some exercises. Come on, everyone, back to training!”

The entire morning was spent with Lady Mormont pointing out different exercises and underlining how they differed from the men’s exercise. Dacey was a good teacher; it was obvious she had experience, as she knew what exactly would cause confusion to Robb. At midday, Robb broke his fast with the entire Mormont family and it was a warm and entertaining affair.


	14. Jon VII

From afar he could see the grey walls of Winterfell. He had thought they would never reach it, with his wound the trip had taken longer than expected. He sighed in relief, feeling his chest lighten at the sight of home. At hearing his sigh, Robb quickly looked over to him, concern painted on his handsome face. Even though Jon’s wound was almost completely healed, his lover’s protectiveness had not diminished. He gave his brother a reassuring smile. The Stark Heir relaxed marginally, although his Tully eyes kept wandering to Jon to check that he was not having any problems riding his black horse.

“We should arrive to Winterfell before nightfall, my lord”, said Braddock, longing in his eyes as he looked to the castle from afar.

Since the death of Codin and Anron at the hands of the wildlings, the mood of the group hadn’t been the same. This trip had been supposed to be a safe and short trip, ergo why they had taken someone new and young as Codin. Nevertheless, they couldn’t have expected the attack of the wildlings almost exactly when they had just arrived. He supposed the wildlings had seen the opportunity seeing them all relaxed and had believed they could overwhelm them when they were outside, instead of protected by the keep.

“And glad to hear it!” exclaimed Randar, a hint of a smile on his thin lips.

Jon glanced at the guard. He had been very good friends with Anron, so he was happy that the man was starting to see the light. To be honest, the bastard of Winterfell felt like the deaths of both Codin and Anron were quite surreal. Mayhaps it was due to drinking the milk of the poppy just after the event, yet he kept expecting Codin and Anron to come back with wood for the fire or come up riding next to him with a joke. He wondered if it was harder to accept their deaths because their deaths were unexpected, these were peaceful times. Was it easier to accept if you were in a battle and knew that any of your comrades in arms could fall? He had known people who died before, mostly of illness, but sometimes in an accident. He didn’t remember their deaths feeling so unreal.

“Looking forward going back to your wife, then?” teased Rody, his grey hair almost the same shade as the stones of Winterfell from afar.

Randar’s wife was a cook in Winterfell. Jon scrunched his forehead, trying to remember whether it was brown-haired Mansy who always made excellent biscuits or black-haired Elna who would always chat about her youngest boy. He knew who it was. Still, right now he was confused, he was drinking something similar to milk of the poppy albeit not as strong to dull the pain. Unfortunately, it made his head feel a bit heavy. Both women were married to guards of Winterfell. Randar had three children, just like Elna whereas Mansy had five so it must be Elna.

Randar guffawed good-naturedly, “My Elna is the sweetest woman you could ever find in the entire North”

 “And her meat pies are quite good as well I suppose, no?” smirked Barth to his friend.

“I wouldn’t say no to a pie or two myself”, said Robb with a smile, “I am quite famished for real food after all this travelling”

“We shall dine well tonight in Winterfell, my lord, and our mounts will finally have some rest”, responded Rody patting his own brown mare on the neck fondly.

“For longer trips, it would do well to bring someone who can cook well though”, stated Braddock with a quiet smile.

“I think Melvan is good at cooking”, mused Barth, “During Greyjoy’s Rebellion he managed to do a very good broth”

“Are you sure you weren’t so hungry everything tasted delicious?” inquired with an arched eyebrow Randar sceptically.

“Might have been that, but it was better than anything I could cook myself or you folks!” replied Barth smirking at them despite their fake cries of outrage at the insult.

Jon laughed and then winced as he felt his healing scar spark in pain at the movement. Riding did bother his wound even alleviated by the pain potion, it seemed that laughing was even harsher to the scar. Immediately, the cringe drew Robb’s attention; who held his hand up commandingly to stop. At once, all the guards paused to study Jon carefully and see whether the wound had reopened. They were all excessively cautious, the wound hadn’t opened the entire trip and it was almost completely healed. It was more scar than wound now.

“Are you alright, Jon?” he inquired caringly, his Tully eyes full of worry.

He forced a smile, “Worry not, brother, I am fine”

His lover’s face changed into a dominant expression that he usually just adopted when they were alone. Jon resisted the urge to blush at the memories that expression evoked. As a result of his injury, Robb and he hadn’t been able to be intimate for quite some time. He longed for his brother’s touch. He could feel his fair cheeks heat up. It would be too suspicious if he blushed, he told himself harshly, wondering what the guards thought of the interaction.

“As soon as we reach Winterfell, we shall take you to Maester Luwin”, ordered firmly Robb.

“I shall, brother” he nodded calmly.

It took a few hours to reach Winterfell. They had made good time and the sun was just starting to set when they arrived to the gates, which were held wide open for them. Jon smiled as he entered the courtyard on his horse; he had missed Winterfell so much. He had like travelling and discovering new places and people, yet it was comforting to come back home.

The entire family was waiting for them in the yard. Father was exactly the same as always; Sansa looked lovely in a blue dress Jon had never seen before; Arya was dressed in breaches like always and her dark hair was a mess, it seemed that she was becoming even more skilled in escaping her septa… Goodness! It seemed like Bran had grown a head taller in the little time they had been away. And little baby Rickon resembled more a toddler than a baby now. Their party entered Winterfell to the cheers of the people who had been waiting for them. He felt like a victorious warrior coming back.

His brother Robb dismounted gracefully and then walked up to him. Jon rolled his mauve eyes, his wound wasn’t still as bad as needing help dismounting. However, his lover was too headstrong to deny him. He wished he wouldn’t try to help him in front of everyone. He saw Randar reuniting with Elna and his three children, while the others guards also greeted their families fondly. At least not everyone was focused on him.

“Let me help, Jon, don’t be stubborn”, muttered Robb commandingly.

With resignation, the natural son of Winterfell allowed his trueborn brother to help him dismount. He couldn’t help a flinch at the spike of pain from his scar. He turned around, knowing that he would probably face Lady Stark’s displeasure. After all, her son had preferred to aid him before greeting her. Usually Lady Stark didn’t even need an excuse for her dislike for him, this would only make it worse. Once his feet touched the ground, Robb stepped away to start greeting the family as two stable boys took their horses from their hands.

“Father”, he nodded to Lord Stark, “Mother”

“You have made me and our House proud on this trip, son”, stated gravely Lord Stark, “Not only did you overcome a bear, but also wildlings ”

Lord Stark’s grey eyes, the ones so similar to Jon’s and exactly the same as Arya’s, did shine with pride at his heir. Jon shifted uncomfortable. He felt ignored. His Father’s eyes were completely focused on his brother, it was not until he stepped closer that Lord Stark looked at him.

“You have done well, Jon, you’re a joy to our blood”, told him Lord Stark softly.

The Warden of the North and his natural Father meant it as well. He was sad that he wasn’t even considered part of House Stark and that he couldn’t be someone to take pride in. Nonetheless, he put on a grateful smile for his Father. Father did his best and he did more than most Lords would do for their bastards. He should be thankful instead of feeling hurt. His lover brushed his arm with his own arm gently, sensing his disappointment.

“I am very proud of you as well, Robb” said lovingly Lady Stark, her beautiful face shining with maternal devotion.

“Thank you, Mother”, answered his brother with a smile.

He felt only dread when Lady Stark turned slightly towards him. He expected the worst. What would Lady Stark say to him now? That he was unworthy of being in her trueborn son’s company? That maybe he was now old enough to foster somewhere else? However, to his surprise, Lady Stark’s Tully eyes didn’t narrow with disapproval as she spotted him. Lady Stark who had always resented him, acknowledged him with a cold nod. He was still stunned as Lord and Lady Stark with baby Rickon in her arms entered the Keep while their siblings accosted them with questions.

“Did you really kill a bear?” asked Arya looking quite incredulous.

“Did you fight wildlings like Uncle Benjen?” piped out Brandon bouncing on the tips of his toes excitedly, “Did you fight like the Kingsguard?”

“There’s a song about you now, Mother said! Can you sing it for us?” exclaimed excitedly at the same time Sansa.

“We’ll tell you everything, but Jon needs to go to Maester Luwin first”, interrupted Robb assertively.

This announcement only brought more questions from their siblings. Questions that his lover effectively ignored as he put a warm hand on the small of Jon’s back to direct him to the Maester’s Turret in search of Maester Luwin. Their two sisters and little brother, of course, trailed after them still commenting on the situation.

“Father said that Jon was injured!” exclaimed Arya studying Jon curiously as though she could find his wound that way.

“Is he not healed yet?” gasped horrified Sansa at the thought that her half-brother had travelled with an open wound.

Despite his exasperation at the over the top reactions, Jon couldn’t help but smile at the obvious care of his siblings. He might not be a Stark by name, yet he would always be a Stark by blood. He was part of the pack. It didn’t matter if his Father couldn’t include him in House Stark, he was part of the Stark Pack and that would be enough. His family was more valuable than a name. There was hope for the future as well. Lady Stark had acknowledged him without disdain for the first time. He supposed she had heard of his risking his life for the sake of his brother. Apparently, the bastard risking his life for the trueborn heir had made it clear that he wasn’t a threat to her children’s inheritance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in Winterfell! What did you think of Catelyn's reaction? Don't be disappointed there's no Robb/Jon in this chapter, Jon will be healed by the next chapter ;)


	15. Robb VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A boring meeting with great repercussions for the North! It's boring but it's necessary for the story :)

He looked around the table filled with the most important people of Winterfell: Father, Mother, Steward Poole, Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik Cassel. He remembered the first time he had been in this position, just after returning from Bear Island, when he had told his Father of his suspicions on the White Walkers. At the time, however, he had been on his own. This time, he had the comfort of his bastard brother sitting quietly next to him. Jon still felt too intimidated by his mother to speak openly in their meetings, even though his mother’s attitude towards the Bastard of Winterfell had considerably mellowed. Apparently, his lover’s injuries defending Robb from the wildlings had convinced his mother of his brother’s loyalty to House Stark.

“How many young men were we able to recruit in Wintertown?” inquired his Father in a grave voice.

Robb straightened his back, as he usually did when his Father spoke to him as Heir of Winterfell. When he spoke to his Father of his suspicions on the Others, the Lord of Winterfell had actually listened to him. They had agreed that even if the White Walkers were mere myths instead of a tribe using scare tactics, the rest of the wildlings still seemed to believe in it enough to march south of the Wall. As such, the North needed to prepare itself.

The position of the North was fortunately good right now. After years of summer, the population was high; the coffers were full and the stock of food and provisions generous. His father was a cautious lord and he had prepared for a winter even longer than the summer they were going through. The North was more than ready for war. Nonetheless, they planned to use their foreknowledge of a potential invasion. The Warden of the North was a particularly prudent and vigilant lord, Robb had discovered.

The first course of action had been to recruit more guards for Winterfell in Wintertown. A trained army was more successful than an untrained one, even if their numbers were less. Ser Rodrik Cassel, the Master-at-arms of Winterfell, had been the main responsible for the role of training the new recruits. Meanwhile Jory Cassel, captain of the guards, and Robb had undertaken the task of recruitment in Wintertown. Although Jon had been a great aid in this task, knowing well the people of Wintertown and its surroundings.

“ We have been able to recruit sixty seven more men, Father, most of which are young men around six and ten”, answered formally the Heir of Winterfell, feeling proud of the good numbers he was giving. This was the third selection they had made of recruits.

“I see”, nodded this Father, “that means that the total amount of recruits we have gained is two hundred and forty nine, isn’t it?”

“That is right, my lord. We have also increased our staff, we have needed eight more cooks and twelve more cleaning maids”, affirmed Steward Poole, looking over the numbers of the past recruitments.

“How are we going to house them all?” inquired his Father, raising an eyebrow.

“Right now we are housing a hundred an eighty-two guards. However, we told the new recruits that they could sleep in their houses in Wintertown and they are pleased to be close to their families. For the future, I would recommend creating barracks outside the walls of Winterfell”, suggested Robb.

The Heir of the North felt his throat tight. He worried he would look like a ridiculous child with his ideas. He had been progressively given more and more responsibilities and his father trusted him, yet he still worried.

“Why not expand the guards’ hall?” questioned his Father.

“At the moment, we are training the recruits to be guards. In the future, we will need to assign them more duties, yet in peaceful times there is not enough work for all of them. As they are young, strong men, I believe they can be put to use constructing guards barracks outside of Winterfell and creating a wall around Winterfell and Wintertown. It is doubtful that the wildlings would be capable of going so south of the Wall. Nevertheless, if they managed to go south of the Wall everyone would flee to Winterfell and we would be unable to house them all. If we create a city wall that surrounds Winterfell and Wintertown, the fleeing small folk could be housed in Wintertown”, spoke Robb trying to sound confident, his heart beating against his chest.

“That is an expensive project”, replied Lord Stark, “I can see the merits in it, a wall of such magnitude would protect our hold for generations. Can we afford it on top of the increase of guards and maids? Furthermore, how long would it take to construct such a wall?”

Steward Poole looked at the mountain of parchments in front of him, “I believe Winterfell’s coffers could afford it without raising taxes, yet I would need to study the numbers before giving any response. On the matter of how long it would take, a rudimentary wall would take two years, a true wall made out of stone like those of Winterfell could take ten years with our current recruits”

Lord Stark looked pensive, “I do not wish to put at risk all the provisions we have made for winter, such a long summer makes for a longer winter”

“It would be a wise move for future generations and this way there wouldn’t be so much traffic of people going inside and outside Winterfell if a courtyard was added outside of the new guards barracks”, commented encouragingly Maester Luwin.

“Do we need to worry of spies?” frowned his Father at Maester Luwin’s comment.

Robb could understand his Father’s surprise; spies were more the way the south did things. In the North, there was no need for spies.

His mother remarked, “There is a maid from the Riverlands. It might be that she is a canny maid that thought it was possible for her to become a ladies’ maid more easily here with a Lady of House Tully. It might also be that she is reporting to someone. I am having her watched to see so”

Robb looked at his mother. Lady Catelyn wasn’t a distrustful person, if she had already arranged for the maid to be watched, there must have been something else to spark her suspicion. He wondered why would someone try to spy on them. The Starks didn’t involve themselves in southron politics, in spite of how they could be easily favoured by the king.

“She’s probably a clever maid who thought she would be favoured for being from the same place as Lady Stark, yet if she’s a spy I would like to know to whom. The South has never tried to be involved with the North in such a manner”, determined his Father.

“What is your decision on the matter of the constructing the wall, Father?” inquired Robb, feeling his Father was still hesitant on the matter.

“I want to see the prospective numbers, Steward Poole, and possible alternatives to using the savings we have made for winter. It is a very good option for the protection of our hold; Winterfell could never be truly sieged if we were to have a wall around Wintertown and Winterfell. It is a good use for our spare men to do so especially since idling men only leads to trouble. At the same time, it is a costly affair and we have already greatly increased our expenses. Winter is coming and we ought to be ready for it. Our provisions for winter now have to include the increase of guards… I need more information before making a decision”, replied Lord Stark severely.

“Of course Father, I thought we could increase our provision by constructing another glass garden which will provide for us through winter as well”, suggested Robb.

“Again, it is a worthwhile endeavour but an expensive one. In the long term, both of your suggestions would be wise yet we don’t know when winter shall start or how long it will last and we expect an attempted wildling invasion in the next years”, mused the Warden of the North.

Steward Poole noted, “A new glass house wouldn’t be as expensive as you suppose my lord. We still have glass from the creation of the sept and it could be attached to the other glasshouse, therefore we would need less glass. Using the glass house we have now, we might be able to recreate it without the need of an expensive foreign expert”

“I see, see to the matter and keep me informed. How goes the training of the recruits, Ser Rodrik?” asked the Warden of the North.

Ser Rodrik caressed his white beard, “They are young lads who have no previous training, my lord, most of them were third or fourth sons of farmers or shepherds. They are strong and healthy and learning quite fast. I do believe it would be wise to have duties for them for when their training is over, they are good men but idleness is good for no man. I had thought of sending them to patrol the land and teach young boys around the North the basic defence, so if the wildlings tried to attack the population the men who haven’t been to war will be capable of defending themselves”

Ser Rodrik’s idea to have the recruits patrol the North and teach basic defence to the green boys was a good one and less costly than Robb’s.

His father nodded and changed the subject, “Maester Luwin has already received the response from Bear Island and Deepwood Motte. They have accepted the reduction of their taxes in exchange of fortifying their keeps. Thankfully, they seem to have taken no offense and have agreed that the increase of wildlings merited it”

The Mormonts and the Glovers were very loyal to the Starks. The offer to reduce their taxes for three years in exchange of a greater fortification of their keeps could be considered offensive, yet Robb knew they had felt guilty that the Heir to the North had been attacked in their home. Additionally, the increase of wildling activity was undeniable. He was glad the two Houses had seen the wisdom of the offer.

“Have the recruits to the Night’s Watch increased?” inquired his mother seriously, sitting primly in her chair, the only woman in the room still a presence of great importance.

“They have, my lady. The North has kept the same numbers of criminals sent to the Wall, more or less. However, your lord father, Lord Tully has sent forty criminals who have chosen the Wall instead of death and has assured us that he shall always give that option in the future. Lord Arryn’s castellan in the Eyrie has sent twenty six criminals who have also chosen the black”, announced Maester Luwin as he took out the correspondence that addressed those matters.

Robb relaxed in his seat. Those were good numbers. There were only one thousand of men currently in the Night’s watch, the number used to be ten thousand. Castle Black wasn’t badly off with six hundred men, yet they only lived in three keeps. The North usually sent around forty men a year, as it was the population wasn’t so high and in summer the crime tended to decrease. The Riverlands and the Eyrie’s contribution doubled the number the North could afford to send. Despite the high mortality rate, Robb was sure that in a couple of years the Night’s watch numbers have increased by five hundred with only their contribution. It was still not at the same rate it used to be in its prime yet a much better number than before.

“What about the Crown? Are they sending anyone?” the Heir of Winterfell inquired.

Maester Luwin looked uneasy, “They responded that the cost of sending a man to the Wall was too high in comparison to the cost of executing him”

This was unexpected. They had all believed that as close friends with his Father, the King would send a lot of criminals. Or at the very least, that Lord Arryn, Hand of the King, would do so. They had directly contacted House Tully and House Arryn due to their blood ties with them. They had assumed that the King would direct the message to the other kingdoms and set a good example.

Lord Stark looked grave, “I shall read the missive later and compose a letter for Lord Arryn”

“Who is the Master of Coin?” voiced suddenly Jon sullenly, “This seems like the response of a Master of Coin”

“Lord Petyr Baelish”, replied coldly Lady Catelyn, her blue eyes daring Jon to continue his thoughts, “My childhood friend and ward of my father”

Immediately, the bastard born backed down, unwilling to confront his father’s lady. The sight angered Robb. Jon barely dared to say anything in the meetings, preferring to whisper it to Robb in bed afterwards. When finally his lover had enough initiative to voice his thoughts, his mother responded in such a manner. And Jon’s suggestion did have merit.

“The same one Brandon duelled?” asked his Father thoughtfully.

His mother seemed uncomfortable at the question, her furious expression becoming slightly embarrassed even as she maintained her flawless composure. Robb felt his curiosity curl in his stomach. There was little talk of uncle Brandon as he had died horribly and his mother had originally been betrothed to him. He wondered why uncle Brandon and Petyr Baelish had duelled.

“The same one”, answered Lady Catelyn.

His Father looked at his mother and wisely didn’t continue the train of conversation, at least in the public meeting. Robb had no doubt that his Father would further speak of Petyr Baelish with his mother in her chambers at night. The meeting ended soon after, most of their subjects of consequence already discussed.


	16. Jon VIII

Jon glanced back at his handsome brother as he trotted on his beautiful stallion. Robb had been watching his backside with appreciative blue eyes. Realising he had been caught, his brother only gave him a cheeky smile. Supressing a chuckle, as they weren’t alone, the bastard born shook his head and looked ahead, hiding his blushing face.

The two brothers stopped their horses at the small hill to appreciate the view. As usual, the same guards from their little excursion to Bear Island escorted them. This time, Ryden Deddings, the uncle of the current Lord Deddings, also accompanied them. He was a riverlander of at least fifty years of age, with pale grey hair and watery blue eyes and a grumpy disposition.

“And this, Lord Deddings, is Rickard’s canal”, announced Robb majestically, his hair glinting red under the sun.

His trueborn brother had truly come into his own this last few months. He was no longer a child, but the Heir of Winterfell. Even in the Riverlands they had already heard the song of the two wolf cubs! His lover had definitely grown; he was responsible for many tasks in Winterfell and in the training of the recruits. Jon felt pride swell in his belly at the thought.

Ryden Deddings, the river expert sent from the Riverlands by Lord Hoster Tully, narrowed his watery blue eyes as he studied the canal in construction and the dozens of workers scattered around it working, “Hmmm”

The Heir of Winterfell tried to not roll his eyes much to Jon’s amusement and commanded, “Let’s get closer”

Jon spurred his black horse, Geir, to approach the canal in construction. Lord Rickard Stark, his grandfather, had begun the project years ago. However, the project had been abandoned with the start of the Rebellion. Now, with the prospect of wildling armies, winter and the increase of population, Lord Stark had decided to finish at least the canal from the natural river, White Knife, to Winterfell. His father had the expectation that to do so would provide more food for the growing Wintertown in summer and winter in the form of fishing; improve trade (given its connection to White Harbour) and reduce the time needed to go from Winterfell to the Wall in case of invasion.

If the canal to Winterfell was a success, Torrhen’s Square would be connected to White Knife and another canal would connect Long Lake to the Last River. The canals would place Winterfell in the middle of the trade, allowing House Stark easier travel to any part of the vast North. The Kingsroad already connected Winterfell to the Wall and the Neck, yet travel by ship was faster and safer in the North and the canal would be a source of food.

His father had also agreed to construct an outer wall surrounding Winterfell and Wintertown. However, there were two conditions. First, it would only be a stonewall if they could successfully and cheaply finish the canal that Lord Rickard Stark, their grandfather, had begun and it improved trade. Secondly, the canal would need to be finished first. Otherwise it would be too expensive to bring stone to Winterfell and the recruits would simply construct a mud and wood wall.

“Heir Stark! Master Snow!” called out Seldan Croll, the mason in charge of building the canal as they approached.

Jon smiled at him kindly. He liked Seldan Croll; he was a thirty-year-old stonemason who had worked on the construction of the canal under Lord Rickard’s orders. He was a strong man of the North: big boned and with a full black beard. He was a quiet but he was also the leader amongst the workers. Even though most of the workers were recruits from Winterfell, who were foolish green boys, Mister Croll maintained order and advanced the construction of the canal masterfully.

“Mister Croll”, greeted his brother with a polite smile, “Lord Deddings, Mister Croll is the stonemason in charge of the construction of the canal. Mr Croll, this is Lord Deddings, who is an expert on the matter and shall be aiding us”

“There is no architect?” inquired Lord Deddings frowning deeply.

The Bastard of Winterfell pursed his lips. The nobleman had completely disregarded the stonemason. Southerners thought so little of smallfolk. Was it such a hardship to be kind and greet a loyal Stark man? Seldan Croll probably knew more about the canal than the old riverlander! Jon sighed; he was being unfair, just because he disliked the man. Lord Deddings in deference to Lady Catelyn ignored him even though Jon was the one who supervised the construction most closely, as his brother had many duties as Heir of Winterfell.

“No, the architect that drafted the plans for my grandfather died during the Rebellion. But we conserve his papers and have repaired most of the canal to Winterfell. We expect to be able to use it soon, yet we wanted your wise opinion on the matter, as Lord Tully spoke highly of your experience. We wouldn’t want a dry canal with no flowing water or to dry White Knife!” praised Robb skilfully, making the grumpy old man preen.

“Ah, yes, yes… I already studied the plans at the keep, let’s see how the terrain has changed, hmm?” replied Lord Deddings sliding down his horse.

Robb gave him an encouraging smile and nodded to him to go talk to Mister Croll who was patiently waiting to speak with them. Jon felt his chest warm at his brother’s kind gesture. His lover knew how the old Riverlander irritated Jon and tried to spare him whenever it was possible. He answered with his own smile and stepped away to speak with Mister Croll, who was waiting in the small wood shed.

“Good morn, Mister Croll”, he greeted the man.

“Good morn, Master Snow! I have quite good news”, said with bright eyes the usually serene stonemason as he spread the blueprints of the canal.

The natural born Stark wondered with anticipation what could have happened since two weeks ago, when he last visited the canal. It was possible that the canal had been intact beneath the mud that it had been buried in in the area near Long Lake? They had thought it was too damaged, but maybe…

“We started expanding the canal here, following the plan… and we found lead! Lead rich in silver and it seems like there is quite a bit of it!” exclaimed boisterously the Northman, pointing at the map.

Jon widened his mauve eyes. This… if there was truly lead rich in silver and in large enough quantities, this could be live changing for the North! Lead could be used for pipes, pewter, leaded glass… Maybe they could build the other glasshouse that their Father had dismissed as too expensive! And a source of silver! It wasn’t the gold of the Lannister, but mining silver was nothing to scoff at. The North didn’t have many resources that the South lacked; yet this would allow them to trade more food with the South.

“Is there enough of it to make mining profitable?”, he inquired, trying to reign in his exhilaration.

“Aye, Kayl, the miner, has been studying the soil there and he thinks so”, answered Mister Croll with a broad smile.

“Well done, Mister Croll, the Starks shall be most pleased. I shall inform them upon my return, we must be discreet with the matter”, he replied with a smile, as he rolled up the map to store it carefully in his bag.

It would take at least five days back to Winterfell from this point. Lord Deddings would need to go to Long Lake, to see the viability of the entire canal. He supposed that Robb would accompany the riverlander to Long Lake while Jon brought the happy news to Winterfell. He didn’t want to part with his brother, although he knew Robb would be safe with the guards and following the canal full of Winterfell recruits.

The Heir of Winterfell and Ryden Deddings returned as soon as the sun began to fall from the sky. They all retreated to a wooden inn, built by and for the construction workers. Jon usually resided there when he went to supervise the canal and a bigger room had been built for him even though he was only a bastard and another room for the guards. It was obvious that Lord Deddings was unused to sitting in the same hall as dozens of small folk, but Jon grudgingly admitted that the Lord kept his composure and didn’t make a fool of himself.

“We should retire”, declared Robb as they watched the merry youths start to leave the hall with a belly full of drink and warm stew.

“I have my own room here, it is bigger and it has a bed”, said Jon with hidden reluctance, not wishing to share his room with the stuffy riverlander.

“And Braddock, Rody, Barth, Randar and I usually share a room”, stated Cryus, the guard of Winterfell who usually escorted Jon in his trips to the canal.

It was obvious that Cryus said so to make it clear to the riverlander that he wouldn’t have to share the room with the guards.

“Ah, no, I would prefer to have my own room even if it’s smaller, Lord Robb”, stated Lord Ryden, his cheeks pink due to his drinking.

At the riverlander’s words, Jon could feel his lover’s heated gaze on his skin. He struggled to maintain an indifferent countenance. He had not felt his beloved’s touch in too long and no one would think anything odd of two brothers sharing the only bed. He rarely could spend the night with his lover, but tonight would be different.

“As you wish, Lord Ryden”, replied his lover as he stood up and gestured to the innkeeper.

Lord Ryden went to sleep to an individual room and the guards went to their room. Jon could feel the anticipation like crawling ants all over his skin. He opened the door to his room and stepped inside in silence. His brother came in behind him and closed the door. Then, the younger boy heard the lock slide into place. He shivered.

“Strip, Jon”, commanded Robb with a clear voice behind him.

The beautiful baseborn bit his lower lip, heat already pooling in his gut and he started to take off the layers of his clothes. The room’s silence was only disturbed by the whispers of his clothing. Jon knew that his brother wasn’t shedding his clothes, as he would hear it. The thought of Robb standing there, completely clothed, watching him send delicious heat through his spine.

When Jon’s small clothes laid on his feet, Robb ordered, “Turn around”

Blushing the slender boy turned around. His lover was leaning on the door confidently, his Tully blue eyes heated as they traced Jon’s body, especially his arousal. Robb stepped forward towards Jon and reached out with his hand. The tips of his brother’s fingers caressed his body, starting by his hip as the Heir of Winterfell slowly circled him. The expectation of touch made his skin feel even more sensitive and Jon struggled to not move at the light stroke of his fingers.

“You are so beautiful, Jon… But you know that, don’t you? You have heard the maids and the guards whispering about it”, muttered Robb behind him, his breath tingling his right ear and his back warmed by his lover’s body heat.

Jon whined as he felt his brother’s clever fingers twist his left nipple. It throbbed painfully even though Robb wasn’t too rough with it and it shot a thrill of pleasure to his cock. He wanted more. He could almost feel his lover’s smirk on his ear at the sound.

“But you are only mine… and you shall only ever be mine, aren’t you Jon?” questioned Robb with conviction.

“Yes”, breathed out Jon.

“Yes, what, beloved?” teased his cruel lover as his other hand absent-mindedly grazed Jon’s torso.

“I’m yours, I’ll always be yours”, answered Jon, his honesty plain in his voice.

Robb rewarded him by grabbing his jaw and pulling him into a passionate kiss. Jon gave a broken moan against his brother’s lips, it felt dizzying to kiss his lover. He felt like he was floating. He felt like he didn’t have to think because his lover would take care of him. He melted into his Robb’s arms and he felt his lover smile into the kiss as he held him.

The Heir of Winterfell pushed him onto the bed. Jon fell onto the bed on his back and his mauve eyes automatically sought his brother. Robb was standing in front of the bed, his breeched tented and his arousal evident on his handsome face. His lover looked ready to devour him and that thought sent a rush of pleasure through Jon’s body. Slowly, mechanically, Robb began to disrobe himself. The fair bastard licked his lips as the robust body of his lover was slowly revealed and Stark just smiled wider at the sight.

Once naked, Robb knelt between his legs, his hands gently spreading his legs further apart, “My beautiful Jon”

“I want you”, whispered Jon helplessly, thinking of his brother sinking into him, being one for a few moments, of pleasuring his lover in such a way.

The Heir’s breath was caught at the plea, but then Robb hardened his features, “I wish nothing more than to make you mine, beloved, but not tonight. You shall have to ride five days after this”

“I want to pleasure you”, replied the baseborn, feeling as though he was disappointing his lover.

Robb smiled gently at him, “And you shall, but after our first night you shall not have to ride for hours on end”

Then his lover leaned to capture his lips again and began to undulate his hips, brushing their shafts together. Jon reached for his brother, but his brother captured his wrists and pined them above his head. He gave a broken moan; the feeling of being helpless at his lover’s hands was unbelievable. He felt heat course through his body. He was floating and he was happy and he felt so much pleasure.

With a sweet sigh, he became undone. Robb kissed him more passionately and brought one of Jon’s hands to encircle his manhood. His lover’s shaft was in his hand and his hand was surrounded by Robb’s hand that directed its movements. The Heir of Winterfell started to move his hand even faster and faster, his lips abandoned Jon’s as Robb rested his forehead on his beloved’s neck.

“My beautiful Jon, so sweet, beloved”, he muttered against the tender skin of his neck until he came, spilling his warm seed all over his lover’s lap.


	17. Chapter 17

“You can’t catch me!” exclaimed Bran as he ran through the courtyard, pursued by Walden Frey.

The new ward of House Stark had a broad smile on his face and his cheeks were pink with effort as his spindly legs struggled to keep up with Bran, “I will, Stark!”

Robb laughed gaily as his little brother started to climb. House Frey had started to give Father problems on the matter of letting the recruits of the Night’s watch cross their bridge. Lord Stark had been wary of their demands, as he had already greatly increased House Stark’s expenses and didn’t wish to have to pay homage to the Freys. The Tully’s of Riverrun could have intervened and forced House Frey to stop their demands. However, it hadn’t been deemed wise to antagonize the House who had power over the connection between the Riverlands and the North and who in the past hadn’t been particularly loyal to House Tully.

Thankfully, the solution hadn’t been monetary in the end. His mother, knowing Lord Frey had a vast amount of progeny, had suggested that they foster two children of House Frey to give company to their own children. Immediately at the suggestion, House Frey had let the prisoners cross their bridge freely. The next issue had come in the selection of which Freys would they have as their wards. Lady Catelyn had suggested offering to foster Tion Frey, son of Emmon Frey and Genna Lannister, as to further their position with the Lannisters who were the true power in King’s Landing. Yet, his father had been too distrustful of the Lannisters and had preferred not to.

Finally, they had chosen Walden Frey, son of Lothar Frey. Although Lothar was the twelfth son of Lord Frey, he was powerful in House Frey due to his position as steward. Walden was of age with Bran and it had been agreed that he would be his companion. His parents had also wished to foster Shirei Frey, the youngest of Lord Frey’s daughters. However, the elderly lord had decided otherwise. As a companion for Sansa or Arya, her perverted grandfather had chosen Roslin Frey as she was comely and the old man hoped the girl would catch the attention of a Stark. Robb shook his red head in amusement, too bad he only had eyes for Jon.

“Good morning, Lord Robb”, greeted Alys Karstark with a sweet smile on her gentle face.

In order to avoid the whispers of southron interests, Lord Stark had also offered to take wards from several northern houses. It was no surprise that two young maidens had been sent to be companions to Sansa with the same thought in mind as Lord Frey. This was how Alys Karstark and Wylla Manderly had come to live in Winterfell, conveniently only a year or so younger than Robb. Fortunately, not all the wards were prospective brides for Robb. The other two were of age with Bran: Daryn Hornwood, son of Lord Halyn Hornwood and Lady Donella Manderly, and Robert Flint, son of Lord Robin Flint from House Flint of Widow’s watch.

“Good morning, ladies”, he greeted the small group politely.

It seemed that Sansa and her ladies were going to the orphanage, as they all carried baskets with small mended clothes. He gave a proud smile to his sister: although Sansa was growing to be a beauty with her bright red hair and bright blue eyes, Robb was even prouder of how his little sister was growing to be a kind, thoughtful lady. It seemed just like yesterday when little Sansa was playing with her dolls. Now his sister led her own group of ladies and organized charity in Wintertown.

“We can’t demur as we have to go to the orphanage”, stated Sansa, “I hope we shall see you at dinner”

“Of course, sister, I shall see you then”, nodded Robb politely.

His sister gave him a smile and left the courtyard, followed by her ladies. Sansa’s small entourage consisted of Jeyne Poole, the steward’s daughter and her childhood friend, Lady Roslin Frey, Lady Wylla Manderly and Lady Alys Karstark. It had done her good to meet other northern ladies, as Robb had noticed she had started wearing more northern hairstyles instead of southern. Robb himself always made sure to compliment the ladies when they were wearing northern styles as he wanted to make it clear that he favoured the North over the South as Heir of Winterfell.

“Honestly, Stark, I am always ahead of you”, joked Jon as he approached with their two horses.

His lover looked beautiful as always, in his black gear that only emphasized his porcelain skin and his light mauve eyes. Jon was growing to be svelte: tall with slender yet firm muscles. He was a marvel to watch in the courtyard when training, training against so many different opponents had only improved his already impressing technique.

Robb sheepishly said nothing as he had indeed been late. He was going ridding with his brother, but it seemed like the time to meet at the stables had passed him by. First, Steward Poole had had some questions about the amount of gold spent on candles this month. Then, Rodrik Cassel had come to speak to him about a couple of guards who had been recruited recently and seemed to have attitude problems. And then he had met with Sansa and her ladies.

His brother gave him a bright smile and handed the reigns of his horse readily, “What do you wish to show me today?”

“Don’t tease me, Jon, you spend more time away from Winterfell than here now”, Robb replied pursing his lips.

It was true. His baseborn lover was in charge of supervising the construction of Rickard’s canal and the silver mines. It was a five-day trip from Winterfell, which meant that Jon spent half a month away from Winterfell almost every month. Robb couldn’t deny that the responsibility had done his brother well, as the bastard felt more sure of his place in the family and in Winterfell. Even though his mother had improved her attitude towards his lover, Jon now was a respected representative of House Stark with real power. It was Jon who supervised two of the most important building projects of House Stark.

“Do not pout, brother, it doesn’t become you”, replied jovially Jon, “Think that Rickard’s canal is finally finished and the silver mines are already in production. We have trust-worthy men caring for the silver mines so I won’t be away as frequently”

“Do not forget that we still have to build the canal from Torrhen’s Square to Winterfell. I suspect you shall also supervise the construction and Father is thinking of building a keep at the silver mines”, stated Robb resigned to seeing his beloved less frequently.

Jon’s mauve eyes brightened at the thought of having done well enough to merit being given again the responsibility of supervising the building the next canal. Robb could not begrudge his lover his happiness, it seemed like his beloved brother was finding his place in the world. Besides, this position would keep him in the family instead of sending him away from Winterfell. No one would think anything odd of Jon becoming Robb’s right hand in the North.

“A keep at the silver mines?” inquired Jon surprised; he had just arrived yesterday so he would know nothing of their father’s musings.

“Aye, I believe Father wants to build a keep for Bran. We need someone to keep an eye on the silver mines and what better way than to have kin look after them?” shrugged Robb as he climbed on top of his horse easily.

“Would it be a new line, like the Karstarks?” asked curious his lover, wonder brightening his mauve eyes, already on his own horse.

“I believe so”, hummed the Heir of Winterfell as he spurred his horse to move.

“There is a ruined keep a couple of miles away from the silver mines. I used it as a shelter once, travelling to Winterfell when I was surprised by a snowstorm. The House apparently died out almost half a century ago, as the lands weren’t rich before the building of the canal, no one claimed it”, explained his lover thoughtfully.

If they could use the remains of the ruined keep, the construction of Brandon’s keep would take considerably less time. Brandon was still young, so he didn’t need the keep yet. Yet, they could start creating a loyal household and a steward for Brandon. Furthermore, the control on the silver mines would be better if it was clear who would take control over them in the future.

“How sizable is the keep?” questioned Robb, his mind already on the future.

“It resembles a fortress: it has a main hall and a tower. I believe that it is far bigger in the inside as it has cells under the keep. It could easily house half a hundred people I believe. The roof will need a bit of work and we will need to get rid of the pests, yet I don’t think it will require a lot of work. It’s nothing like our own Broken Tower or the city wall”, replied his brother.

“Speaking of our city wall”, declared Robb waving his hand theatrically towards their own city wall.

Jon’s eyes widened at the progress. The last time he had been here, they had only had a mile of wall or so. Now the wall was three quarters done. It was unbelievable to his lover as the city wall was honestly enormous. The city wall surrounded Winterfell and Wintertown, considering the fact that Winterfell and Wintertown were a couple of miles from each other, the progress was unbelievable.

“I didn’t see any of this last night”, whispered Jon in awe as he contemplated the wall, “This is incredible Robb”

Robb smirked, he had been the one in charge of the city wall so it was his pride how developed it was already, “You know that we have needed more blacksmiths. One of the blacksmiths, Jarod, has a brother in training that helped build the wall, Joel. They created this device that helped lift and carry the stones. They came to me with a small version and it worked, so I ordered the construction of the real life version. And the results are in front of you”

It had been a gamble. The device had been unproven and untested. And the construction had been expensive. Nevertheless, it had been a complete success. This device had halved the time of construction at the very least. Winterfell and Wintertown would soon be impenetrable: it would be almost impossible to overwhelm the tall walls and to siege them would be futile. The space between Winterfell and Wintertown was more than enough to house the livestock in winter and the produce of the glasshouses and the small gardens of Wintertown would be enough to avoid starvation. The natural hot springs were also in the protected area inside the wall, so they would always have fresh water.

His lover stared at the wall, “This is brilliant. Will it also help with the building of the new canal?”

The Heir of Winterfell smirked, straightening in his seat on top of his horse. It was incredibly rewarding to watch the wall he had fought to build almost finished. The device, named _jarel_ by the brothers in a simple name play of their own names, was helpful in all types of construction as it eased the moving of the heavy boulders and stones.

He hoped that the two brothers would create similar devices that would help the construction overall. Robb had always been taught that reading was a sign of intelligence and yet two illiterate men had thought of this amazing creation. He had employed a young bastard, Thom Snow, who knew how to read to research Winterfell’s library to find things to aid them and explain them to the young brothers as well as teach them how to write.

“Of course, it will be of aid. The construction of the wall around Winterfell was supposed to take five years and it will take one and a half. I have ordered the construction of another device as I believe the new canal will take two years with this new device and we will need the one we have to rebuild the Broken Tower and build a port for the canals”, stated Robb proudly as he watched the fruits of his efforts.

“The Broken Tower will be rebuild so soon?” asked his lover.

“Aye, Father wants to use it as a food storage since it will be the only place in Winterfell completely free of the hot springs within the walls. The cold temperatures will preserve the food better”, the Heir of Winterfell disclosed.

“But our food storages wouldn’t fill up the entire tower”, rebutted his lover, surprise plain on his fair face.

“Father wishes to increase our storages, he’s already ordered that the surplus of the glass houses be made into preserves. Since this summer is so long, Father is wary of how long winter shall be. He wants to make sure to have enough food. He has also ordered to build another hall for food storage for Wintertown, now that the other one is filled”, he detailed.

“I thought the increase in food with the fish of the canal would be enough to soothe his worries”, pondered Jon, “But I can understand his worry, the longer the summer, the longer the winter”

Robb nodded. The Heir of Winterfell could barely remember the last winter, being too young at the time, so he wasn’t sure whether his father was being overly cautious. One thing was for sure; there could never be too much food in winter. If they ended winter with food in their stores, it was for the better. The preserved wouldn’t go bad easily after all, especially if they were stored in the icy cold tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a boring chapter, but I wanted to show you the progress they're making with the construction :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! At the beginning we have a meeting so we can see the progress of the North, I hope it's not too boring and I don't repeat myself too much. It might be a bit optimistic for you, especially the timings but we're on a schedule here ;) And at the end of the chapter I hope is a nice surprise! Tell me what you think!

Jon Snow entered Lord Stark’s solar confidently, feeling the warmth of pride and purpose alight in his chest. He, a bastard, was going to sit down on one of the most important seats of the North: the advisor of the Warden of the North. He had never expected to be here. Well, that wasn’t exactly correct. He had imagined his brother as a lord, demanding that he was allowed to sit in his council as his advisor.

He had also imagined the wild opposition, as Lady Catelyn had never made her dislike for him a secret. However, here he was: with his barely growing beard, sitting down for a world-changing meeting for the North, knowing that his opinion would be taken into account. It was still a bit bewildering to be allowed and accepted into such a meeting. He knew he had his lover to thank as their father had never wished to further his slight against his wife by favouring Jon in any other way.

The Heir of Winterfell squeezed his shoulder brotherly as he sat down next to Jon. The young bastard gifted him with a smile, not too bright as to not offend Lady Stark. The others soon followed and sat down around the table: Lord Stark at the head of the table, Lady Stark, Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik and the steward.

“Good morn”, greeted them his Father serenely, “I would like to start with the recruits”

“We have pulled good numbers, Father, young men from all over the North are coming to train as guards in Winterfell”, started Robb, his Tully blue eyes shining with satisfaction.

“We aren’t pulling shepherds away from their herds or farmers away from their fields, are we?” interrupted Lord Stark, with a concerned frown.

“Fear not, Father, the long summer has resulted in men with too many sons and not enough work for them in the winter. We haven’t recruited a lot of farmers sons, because even the few farmers in the North need all the hands they can have. We have third and fourth sons mostly, who can’t be their parents’ apprentices because their brothers already are”, replied the Heir of Winterfell with a confidence in his voice that wouldn’t have been there only a few moons ago.

Lord Stark nodded, his shoulders relaxed minutely and he sat back in his seat, “It is good that we are providing service for all these third and fourth sons then. Idle men are always trouble”

“Aye, father. Right now we have seven hundred and fifty men in our employment between the ages of fifteen and twenty”, determined Robb looking at his parchment of numbers, although Jon doubted he actually needed it, “Our veterans, fifty guards, live inside Winterfell as they have always done. Two hundred of men live in the new barracks or with their families in Wintertown. Of those two hundred, fifty are still training to become guards and a hundred and fifty are building the wall. Two hundred men are in the silver mines, only twenty of them are still being taught how to be a miner. Finally, the rest of our trained men: two hundred and fifty men are building the new canal”

The numbers were astonishing. Jon knew that Lord Stark disliked spending so much money even though their men weren’t idle only becoming guards, but were also being taught how to be miners and builders. After their goals had been achieved these seven hundred and fifty men would need to be distributed to make proper use of them. Jon supposed that the miners would remain miners and at least another fifty would become miners, but what to do with the builders? Some could go to Brandon’s future keep, he believed, at least a hundred since the area had been quite abandoned before the silver mines. Still, if there were a hundred and fifty guards in Winterfell and Wintertown, three hundred miners and a hundred men for various purposes in Brandon’s keep that still left two hundred men with no purpose.

“How is their training progressing?” inquired Lady Stark, sitting primly on her seat.

“The fifty new boys are young and untrained before coming here, but they are hale and healthy and learning quickly”, stated Ser Rodrik, stroking one of his long grey whiskers, “The basic training will be finished in another moon and then they’ll train in the morn with me and help with the wall in the afternoon”

“How is the wall developing?” inquired Lord Stark.

“The wall shall be finished soon, Father. That machine has been working perfectly and has greatly reduced the time needed to build. I expect to be finished with the wall in two weeks and then we’ll move to build a simple port for Rickard’s canal, I suspect it shall be called Winterport” stated amused his brother.

“So fast?” questioned Maester Luwin astounded, “Is that machine so effective?”

“Aye, the two boys were very bright. I think they can come up with more brilliant ideas, that is why I have employed Thom Snow, son of a Manderly, to teach them reading and I want them to have free access to the library” declared with pride the young redhead.

“I was wary of spending so much money on that machine, yet I can’t complain on the results. You have my leave for giving them access to the library”, affirmed Lord Stark with a small smile on his thin lips, “What about the new canal?”

“The canal connecting Torrhen’s Square will connect seamlessly with Rickard’s canal, creating a single canal. Rickard’s canal will go from the White Knife, to Winterport, to Torrhen’s Square”, stated contently Jon, “With the new device _jarel_ , the second part of Rickard’s canal will be finished in two moons”

“How are the mines working?”, inquired Lord Stark with interest.

Jon straightened in his seat, he was the one in charge of supervising the mines and he had good news on the matter, “I brought an experienced miner from the Westerlands to work in ours. He has taught us their ways and I must say that I am quite pleased. There have been no accidents so far and the miners are pleased with their new work. We have forty six kilos of lead and fifteen of silver”

His father’s grey eyes widened minutely, surprised at the quick results. They had invested a lot in the mines with the expectation that it would make sense on the long term, as the North couldn’t feed its growing population without buying food from the South and silver was a safer currency than exchanging goods. That said, no one expected production to be so rich already.

“Fifteen kilos of silver?” exclaimed flabbergasted the steward, “That- that is enough to pay the nine hundred people in the service of House Stark for a year!”

“How can you have produced so much? The miners only started mining four moons ago!” pointedly asked Lady Stark with narrowed and distrustful eyes.

“We have taken advantage of the closeness of the canal and have used aqueducts and watermills. There’s a treaty on the matter of mining in the library from the time of Brandon the Builder, I didn’t expect it to work so well”, admitted Jon, feeling proud of the results of his hard work.

“Winterfell’s library has unique treaties on the matter as the legacy of Brandon the Builder”, commented Maester Luwin with a small smile.

“In that case, Father, I believe we should expand the glass house without worrying over our coffers”, interjected quickly his beloved and Jon smiled gratefully at Robb for distracting his mother.

Lord Stark looked upon them with a small smile. Their Father was starting to be known as Lord Eddard the Second, not in reference of being the second son but as Lord Eddard the Second Builder. This was an honour because Brandon the Builder was known as one of the best kings in the history of House Stark. Under his Father’s eyes, in the last years, they had created a great canal, a wall through Wintertown and Winterfell, rebuilt the broken Tower, build new barracks for the guards and another hall to house the food for Wintertown.

Only the construction of Robb’s wall, as it was become known, and part of Rickard’s canal between Torrhen Square and the new Winterport was still in the process of being done. These were prosperous times. They had taken risks and made investments and these investments were being returned and multiplied.

“Indeed, the construction of a new glass house is no longer a problem. We will also need to build a small fleet of ships to transverse the canals, House Manderly and House Tully will send a delegate to help us in this matter. Brandon’s keep in the silver mines needs to be repaired”, Lord Stark paused and added, “If through the next year, the mines continue giving this produce, we shall make the canal between Long Lake and the Last River”

The meeting ended on that high note. The Broken Tower, the guards’ barracks and the second food hall had been finished. Robb’s wall would be done in two weeks and would be followed by the construction of Winterport, the glasshouse would be done in a month, and Rickard’s canal would be done in two months with the additional builders now used in Robb’s wall.

The builders would then be brought to build Winterfell’s fleet, which could be expected in seven months as the North was rich in timber but they needed the knowledge and Brandon’s keep would be repaired within a year. The silver mines were expected to produce 100 kilos of lead and 45 kilos of silver this year, which would finance all the construction without touching Winterfell’s coffers.

“Fifteen kilos of silver and forty-six of lead. I am officially impressed, Master Snow”, said his lover with a teasing smile.

Jon blushed with pride. He knew he had no direct responsibility in how rich the silver mines were, but he had responsibility in how well they were managed. It had been he who had managed to steal one of Lord Tywin Lannister’s best Head Miners, luring him away from the rich and warm Westerlands hadn’t been easy. And it had been him who had read and instructed the builders with the aid of brilliant Jarod and Joel using aqueducts, mills and other machinery.

“Finishing the wall in a measly year and a half and the guard barracks and Broken Tower at the same time? Becoming the patron of a brilliant pair of inventors? I think you have impressed me even more Lord Stark”, he replied flirtatiously.

Robb’s eyes darkened and the Heir of Winterfell pushed him into a wall to kiss him breathless. Even after two years and a half in a relationship with his beloved brother, since they were both twelve, his lover managed to make him melt in his arms.

“Come to my rooms with me, Jon”, whispered intently the Stark Heir staring into his violet eyes.

The baseborn felt his cheeks blush. He knew what was going to happen. After months of waiting and being foiled by constant travel, they were to finally consummate. Jon didn’t need to leave Winterfell until next month, more than sufficient time to heal without the threat of vigorous and long hours horse-ridding. The thought of laying in his brother’s arms, of finally being Robb’s in every single way made his belly heat with desire.

“Yes, yes, always, Robb”, he replied passionately.

The two hurried along the corridors of Winterfell, not unlike they did when they were children and wanted to play together. Jon felt only exhilaration at the prospect of becoming Robb’s. He couldn’t wait to be one with his lover for the first time. They entered Robb’s chambers and his beloved locked the door quickly, before turning to him with desire written in his expression.

“Strip, my love, bare yourself for me”, ordered the Heir of Winterfell, his voice thick with lust.

The affectionate name ‘my love’, made Jon tremble with want and love at the same time. He stripped quickly, eager to be one with his lover. Blushing as he saw how the Tully eyes coveted every bit of skin revealed, until all his clothes were on the floor.

“So beautiful, Jon, always so beautiful”, stated Robb as he contemplated his naked body, “lie on my bed Jon, where you belong”

The intensity of his brother made him blush. He loved when Robb praised him, even when he was rough. It made him feel light and happy as though he was floating and could fly away at any moment. Heir Stark smirked and started to take off his clothes slowly so that Jon could appreciate the sight. And Jon did appreciate the broad and muscled chest and strong arms and legs. His brother’s member had grown and he felt the slightest bit of apprehension at the sight of the long and thick cock. But Robb would never hurt him.

“My sweet Jon”, murmured the trueborn as he covered his body and captured Jon’s lips.

The younger brother closed his violet eyes in pleasure, sighing into his lover’s mouth as Robb’s hands firmly massaged his round arse. He was so eager for his brother’s touch that he barely needed a few caresses to be panting into the Stark heir’s hands and begging for him.

“Please, Robb, I need you”, he whispered urgently parting his legs to accept his brother between them, “I am yours”

As always, the words ‘I am yours’ brought his trueborn brother’s lust and greed. The Stark heir quickly reached for a small container with oil and wetted his fingers without parting their eyes from each other. Robb was careful, introducing the first finger slowly and watching his face attentively. As soon as Jon winced, his beloved hushed him soothingly and paused until he became used to it.

They were both eager, thirsty for each after weeks of being away from their loved one. And soon, Robb was positioning his member at Jon’s entrance and slowly entering the virginal channel never breached before. Jon inhaled sharply, it was more painful than his lover’s three fingers but he was too impatient to wait more. He needed his lover.

“So beautiful, Jon, you take me so well”, murmured Robb affectionately as he leant forward slowly, their foreheads touching, “You were made for me, my love”

“I love you, I love you”, whispered Jon in response as his brother was completely sheathed in his channel.

And then Robb started moving. It was pleasurable and painful at the same time. Jon could barely think. He could just feel. And he felt happy and elated and on the top of the moon. And then Robb thrust into something inside him that made him the stars and earned his lover a loud luxurious moan that only encouraged him to attack that spot. Jon didn’t last long. As always, quickly overwhelmed by his lover, he reached his peak. Robb ended quickly after him, enjoying the channel’s contractions around his cock.

When Jon came back to himself after the intense pleasure, he was laying in his brother’s loving arms and the Stark Heir was cleaning his dripping entrance gently with a soft wet cloth, whispering endearments and praises. Jon Snow had loved Robb Stark all his life, since he was but a toddler. But this was the moment that fifteen-year-old Jon Snow decided that Robb Stark was his life. They couldn’t marry due to politics, but in his own eyes Robb Stark would be his lord husband until the end of his days.


End file.
